


Industrial Harpy

by ViraLayton



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, Character Death, Don't worry, Hurt/Comfort, I hope anyway haha, I swear, I've never written one of these before, It'll end happy, It's happy sometimes, M/M, Murder, Septiplier - Freeform, Slow Build, So much character death, Steampunk, Violence, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViraLayton/pseuds/ViraLayton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't belong there, he was too young. And his best friends were gone.<br/>All except one.<br/>This thought made him angry and he threw his phone at the heated dome above his head. Why did he get a circular bed? Why did it have to be heated? Why did all of his friends have to age past him without warning and he stay the same!? Mark gripped the pillow tighter and buried his face in it. It wasn't the first time he'd cry himself to sleep over this, he'd done it on and off for the last two thousand or so years and wasn't stopping now.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eye-Spider

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter contains: Sadness because I'm a terrible person

It's late.  
All the sounds of the city have died down, all of the zeppelins have settled for the night, all the mechanical cars and electronics had died out hours ago. And for some reason, he still couldn't sleep. The man sat up, his glasses falling crooked off of his face, dropping into his lap. With a sigh he rose to get a drink of water. His legs felt like they were full of lead, full of round pellets of weight that slowed him down.  
It was probably just because he was tired, however.  
The man made it to his bathroom, the fluorescent moon-lights casting a cloudy glow onto the metal and porcelain of the area. He grabbed a plastic cup out of the medicine cabinet and turned his tap on, refusing to look at himself. After downing a few mouthfuls of the clear, chlorinated water, he placed the cup back, finally looking at his reflection.  
He looked like absolute hell. His eyes had dark bags under them, and one was even bruised from hitting it into a round cabinet corner. His chin had grown too scruffy for his liking and he would need to trim it down soon. His hair was fading from the colour it was, but he wasn't quite fond of the light pink colour. He made a mental note to have it done again, even though he wanted it to fade out. Running his fingers through his hair, he splashed his face with cold water and returned to his room.  
A clock projected the time into the air via hologram, issuing a sigh. 2:47 AM, Thursday, October 15th, 4015. He swiped his hand over it, dismissing the bright blue lights and crawled back under his sheets. While the automated heat of the round bed comforted him slightly, he looked over to the other side of his bed and sighed.  
It had been empty for thousands of years.  
Well, he clarified in his head, thousands of years to him. The pink haired man was no ordinary creature. He was different. Sure, he was an inventor, Artificial Intelligence programer, time and space enthusiast, and an engineer, but most stared at him. Some called him a demon, a siren, a cast out. Others called him an angel, a bird, a rare creature that should be kept safe.  
He rolled onto his back; he didn't listen to them all. They were just a heavy burden on his back, held down by magnesium bars and a vest during the day so he didn't just fly off from his job. And he never quite understood the burden of his gift; the red and grey wings fully outstretched came to 30 feet from their longest points, 15 feet each, but folded up against his back they were less than two feet total and never hurt. Almost as if they were made out of some magical material. Some magical material that made him never age and lose everyone he ever loved or cared about.  
The man cursed at himself, rolling onto his side away from his clock. He huffed, why did the silence have to bother him so much? The empty bed, the centuries lost, the feelings vanishing with each millennium. He should be used to it, but he knew that 3 AM would do that to his head. He scolded himself, and after digging his glasses out of his blankets, tried to fall asleep.  
The morning came, and at precisely 9:35 AM the man's alarm blared to life, playing an old song from several, SEVERAL thousand years ago. He sighed, waving his hand through the lights and shut it off. He rose, still feeling the weight in his legs and stretched. He didn't have to go into the shop until 11:30 anyway, so he figured he had plenty of time. He stood facing the corner of his room and reached up under his shirt, tugging down a large Ace Bandage that he usually used to restrain his wings with at night. They twitched, almost having a mind of their own, and soon after the man pulled up the back of his shirt, the feathered appendages shot out, then proceeded stretch all the way to the opposite side of his room.  
The man knocked over a lamp in the process and shattered the pure glass shade, sending several gears and springs and shards to bounce across the floor. He sighed, but he thought to himself that it didn't matter. He stretched the wings, hearing the strained movements of the bones, the chafing of the silky feathers against his back.  
Oh how he had forgotten how good it felt to be free. He turned his head to look outside, to look at the cityscape before him and to remember how long it had been since he was born. Was it one, no, it was two thousand and twenty-six years since he had been born. A sigh escaped his nose, and his large wings drooped behind him. Things sure were different back then, when he was in his actual twenties. So many friends, but somehow he had outlived them all.  
All except one.  
He shook the thought out of his head and stood up, slowly pulling his wings back to his body and felt a wave of disappointment crash over him. He circled to the other side of his bed and picked up the thin magnesium brace. He pulled the halves apart to put it on, and adjusted all of his torso into place with it. To his closet he went, just pulling out a few things; white shirt, black vest, brown pants. From the side of his bed he grabbed a pair of knee high black, shined boots with odd supports and gears on them. Like from Portal, he thought. With another sigh he vaguely thought to what jeans were, how good they felt, but the thought escaped his mind when his ten o'clock alarm when off. He threw a shoe at the racket, which knocked the holographic projector over and shattered it into pieces.  
He pondered over bringing the pieces with him to his job, to fix in his spare time, but he ultimately decided against it and grabbed his century old iPhone. He dressed and headed to his bathroom, just to wash up and to attempt to hide the growing bags under his eyes and the large bruise. His efforts were futile at best, so he gave up and pattered into the rest of his home.  
Walking out of the bathroom was a large open space, which was his kitchen, dining room, living room, and office all rolled into one. Each was sectioned off to feel like its own area, but to his eyes it was just a cluttered mess. With a shake of his head, he walked to his fridge and pulled at the bronze handle. The shelves were nearly empty, save for some extremely old food from when he was under 100 years old. He refused to eat it, though the large red letters on the chocolate sure tempted him. He grabbed a bottle of 'Dr. Strangefire's All-Nourishment Drink,' opening the top to inhale a putrid smell. How did people stand the smell and taste of these? They smelled as old as his age was and were probably filled with things that Upton Sinclair would have talked about.  
With a deep breath, he chugged down the thick liquid. He gagged on it, tossing the horrible concoction into the automatic trash compactor. He headed towards the door, wondering how hard it would be to make a pizza when he got home, but he again dismissed the thought. Through the door he went, standing on the solar-powered driveway and basking in the light of the artificial sun. He felt the light radiating off of his skin, soaking up in his skin tone.  
Disappointment crossed his face as he walked towards his vehicle. This sun was cold, lonely, and mocked all of human-kind. He opened the door to his car, a thin brown carriage, decorated with gold and silver decals. He held his hand over the starter, waiting for it to start after he triggered the scanner. The Auto-Pilot kicked on.  
'Good Morning, Mark Fischbach. Where are you off to?' The automatic voice asked. Mark groaned, not wanting to talk at this hour of the morning. He instead tapped the screen and directed the A-P to his workplace, Kelju Tech. 'Redirecting to, Kelju Tech, time of arrival, 11:17 AM on Thursday, October 15, 4015. Sit back and relax while you are whisked through the roads.'  
A grin crossed Mark's face, he remembered the day he programmed the Auto-Pilot, affectionately called Ash. He was approached to sell it and gain a profit, but he just gave it to the company that was interested and asked only that he be credited with the creation, and that all money he would earn went to Kelju tech. Long story short, Kelju was one of the most extensive branches of the Repairing and Building Industry.  
He sat back and stared at the artificial sky, taking in all of the clouds that floated across the voxels of the skydome. He longed to see the sun again, the real one, and spend the time on his way to work remembering the thousands of years ago with his four best friends.  
The car pulled to a halt, and sitting up, Mark noticed that he was at Kelju, precisely 11:17 as A-P Ash had promised. He got out, glad that most people nowadays flew by zeppelin or in flying vehicles of some sort. Made the ground route easier. As he walked towards the large brick building, he realized he had forgotten his glasses. He shook his head, ignoring it and walked inside.  
His senses became bombarded as soon as he opened the door. Oils, metal melting, gasses, and assorted other indescribable smells filled his nose. Chatter, buzzing, whining, and whirring filled his ears, and the bronze, silvers, and golds filled his eyes. A blonde man turned around, smiling and speaking with a thin Scandinavian accent to a customer. He pardoned himself from her and approached Mark.  
“Hey, there you are! Thought you might be coming late again, but finally got the swing of it?” He asked.  
Mark shook his head, “Couldn't sleep at all, so I just was already awake. Good to see you in a good mood, Silas.”  
Silas smiled, “I inherited it from my great, great, greaaaat, grandfather, Felix.”  
A sad memory crossed into his head, but Mark kept the cheer up for the sake of not getting fired. He nodded, “What's my schedule for today?”  
Silas thought for a moment before speaking, “I have it in my office, just let me finish meeting with the lovely lady over there and I'll tell you. I have the rest of this week and all next week filled for you, so don't be late!” With that, the blonde walked back over to the woman and continued to talk to her.  
Mark ran his fingers through his vibrant hair, softly laughing and taking a seat behind the receptionist's desk and reading the new contracts sprawled across the hardwood surface. A car engine and mechanical horse being repaired by Louis, recreational boat fixed by Kent and Darius, ancient hardware called a 'Computer' and a 'Cell Phone' repaired by Aisha. Mark shook his head and reached to the pocket of his vest, feeling his phone against his chest. He thought he saw ones with his name on them, but before he could look Silas walked over with another paper  
“Cannon and assorted firearms from the 3150's to be repaired by Jen and Jess. Alright, Marki, let's go get your schedule! Follow me if you would.”  
Mark got up and followed, knowing it was own good to listen to what Silas had to say. They walked to a section of the grey wall with a panel in it. Silas pressed his hand into it cringing as the lights danced across his fingers and palms. The wall broke open and the two walked inside. Silas gestured for Mark to sit down while he looked for his schedule.  
The older man nodded and sat, trying to get comfortable in the adjustable metal chair. That was one thing he noticed, the chairs kept getting less and less comfortable as the ages went on. He leaned back and watched Silas.  
“Alright, here's my schedule, Jen and Jess Dmik, Aisha Edelson. Ah, here you are, Mark Fischbach!” He yanked out a silver folder, then proceeded to look through the papers. “June, July, August, September. Oh, here we go, October. Here you are, look it over and just let me know if you can handle it all,” He rambled on with a smile.  
Mark glanced over the paper, “Prosthetic leg for Missy Tya again, animatronic AI from Kent for tomorrow, weekend off, Arm, Leg, Eye and Torso from... Unknown all next week?” The man glanced up at Silas, “Why does it not say the name and specifics?”  
“Well, for starters, he requested we use you to repair the parts, which are about $100,000 each, maybe more. He also requested I not tell you until I introduced you two.”  
“What am I working on?” Mark said, much more persistent this time.  
Silas thought for a moment, “I believe you need to touch up the joint and nerve system in the arm, leg, and torso, as well as fix external damage done by some war. I think he said the 3000's war, but I don't remember. His eye is completely busted, but it cannot be taken out of the guy's head because it's fused to his skull.”  
Mark nodded, at least content with knowing what he was doing. “Where is Missy Tya? So I can start those repairs.”  
“In your silent, creepy ass workshop. Seriously, get something loud in there, it freaks me out.”  
They let out some form of laughter, Silas more than Mark. “I don't need it, some people like the quiet. Calms them from the chaos of the industrial world out there.”  
“Whatever floats your zeppelin, man. Just hurry up.”  
Mark nodded, leaving the office to begin his work for the day.  
He passed through the entry, walking down a long, wide corridor before passing under a solid silver arch. He mused at the gears, pistons, whistles, and bells chugging on the sides of it, seeming to have no purpose other than to make noise. A large bronze ball hung from the middle and was severely oxidized. Mark glanced around and jumped up, shoving the ball with all his might before he ran from the new noise. The ball kept all the gears running, in perfect motion and working perfectly.  
But slamming his palms into the ball of metal proved to be noisy, and he had to stifle his laugh as the ball tugged on all the parts of the arch, sending the area into utterly noisy chaos. He ran to a large steel door and threw himself against it, which simply creaked open from it's massive weight and allowed the man to slip in. He leaned against the door and laughed wildly, remembering that the last time he did that was, how many years ago? He thought, 5 years, 7 months, 3 weeks, and 15 days ago. The numbers made his head hurt, he thought, and looked up to find Missy Tya sitting in the repair lounge, a large smile pushing through her ragged lips.  
He quickly gave her a once-over, noting the frilly, short skirt, corset that tucked in her stomach and pushed up her already prominent chest. The little bit of white fabric on her chest left little to the imagination, and bangles decorated her arms. He nodded at her, acknowledging that she was there and then continued to his workstation.  
His work room was the largest of all of the workers, but that was due to the certain conditions that he needed for each of his jobs. Where Missy was seated was a lounging chair, one like you would see in a tattoo parlour. The thought of a tattoo caused an all too familiar pain to spark up on his thigh, but he ignored it and continued to think. Tables sat around Missy with parts, gears, cogs, the whole Victorian mechanical nine-yards. That was at the back of the room, and was probably the messiest of all.  
To the left was his personal workstation, for holding his tools and for fixing small objects, like AI mind chips and '$10,000 alarm clocks.' He scoffed and glanced at the area behind him. Robot station, almost like a surgeon's operating room, filled with computers and personally crafted equipment. The rest of the room looked like a sparse living room, but he didn't bother with it.  
He cleared his throat and picked up a tool belt and strapped it to his waist before approaching Missy Tya, “Good morning Missy.” He said politely, his deep voice resonating in the large room.  
Missy giggled, looking up at the man, “Good morning Mr. Fischbach! I'm sorry I come back so often, but fights just happen in final-school!”  
Her high voice hurt his ears, but at least she was being nice. He nodded in response before pulling his stool over, sat down heavily and spoke again, “Lift your leg up so I can detach it for you.”  
“Yes sir!” She giggled. Mark tried to not cringe at the echo and caught her leg as she pulled it up. He pulled out a small wrench from his belt and began to undo the bronze bolts that held her leg into the socket. The metal clattered to the floor as she began to speak again.  
“Mr. Fischbach, I started the 12th grade this year, though I wish I didn't have to go. Everyone always picks on me, but I usually kick them. But this time I got in a fight with a boy who had a metal arm, and WhaM!” She made a punching motion, “He broke the leg! He apologized, and I told him I wouldn't tell, so I told my mom that I had fallen down some stairs and it got caught in the railing.” Mark flinched as his arm got caught on a loose piece of metal and cut his skin. He nodded, pretending he was paying attention to her story, but he was more focused on her leg. He pulled it out of the socket, wires falling out of the top. He would have to reattach them to her nerves after, but he didn't mind.  
It was simple but complicated all the same. The whole thing was made of metal, some wires connecting the two sections of leg. The outside was smooth, covered in dings, dents, and now a giant crack and missing piece of metal and wires. He sighed and sat back, the leg in his lap as he absent-mindedly worked on the repairs. Missy continued to talk, filling the never-ending silence. Plasma torch to cut the outside of the leg off, needle-nose pliers to fix the wiring, and replacement of the memory card - to remind the machine what to do – and he cut the rest of the metal off. He brought it over to a workbench and pulled out a sheet of metal and a sheet of plexiglass. He cut the pieces, assembled it with only the thought of the repairs occupying him.  
After a short few minutes, Mark turned around and found Missy Tya asleep in the chair, snoring softly with her blonde hair in her face. He laughed quietly, looking at the metal, robotic leg on his workbench. With a shake of his head he pulled the plasma torch back out and turned the heat far down. He pulled a pair of complex goggles off of his belt and slapped them on.  
Minutes passed, hours, and eventually he found himself sitting on the ground with his back to the bench. He had re-attached the leg an hour ago and found himself staring blankly at it. For whatever reason, he felt the need to decorate the exterior and had brought it over to his personal workstation. It was painted and there was a thin sheet of plexiglass placed over it to try to protect it from the elements. He had painted an abstract version of the stars on it, each small star a number off of a watch, a gear, a spring, a wheel. Comets were pistons, and the moon was a large decorated gear. He was quite proud of the work and had sat down to take a nap. His eyes were shut and he was just barely asleep before he heard Missy begin to move. A moment of silence passed, then a sharp gasp and a squeal of delight echoed around the room.  
“Oh, Mr. Fischbach, it's beautiful...” He heard her long nails grazing the surface of the leg and she jumped up. Her leg buzzed and whirred, calibrated and thought. A click sounded and she walked to the man, who was at this point pretending to sleep. A caring kiss was given to his forehead and the sounds of leather echoed. Her shoes, he assumed. 27 clicks and a loud slam later, she had left the room and he leaned back.  
He got up, his back and wings aching and straining under the weight of his metal restraint. He pulled his ancient phone out of his pocket, noting that it was 9:38 at night and he was in overtime. With a hand through his pink hair, he left the room and passed under the geared arch. To his car, to his home, and to his room.  
As soon as he entered his room, he shut the curtains, closed and locked the door, and pulled everything off of his torso. His vest landed on a lamp and the phone fell onto the bed, unharmed. The brace was removed, each half finding a different side of his bed to land on. With a final pull at his shirt, he breathed easier. After a loud sigh, he fell face first into his bed and pulled a pillow to his side. His wings extended, brushing the ceiling and stretched as far as they could.  
Mark fumbled for the phone and pushed the power button. 10:04 PM, Thursday, October 15, 4015. He entered his password and stared at the screen. The camera roll was pulled up, showing an image of five people, with himself in the middle. To his left were Bob and Wade, and to his right were Jack, Sean, he dimly thought, and Aaron. It was the last convention they had gone to, with Bob, Wade, and Aaron looking a little worse-for-wear, and Mark and Jack not looking a day past 27.  
And, the truth was, they weren't. They were in their 40's and 50's in the picture, all getting too old to do what they loved to do, but still going strong. A weight fell on Mark's chest, remembering what happened after. He went home, and so did everyone else, and he never saw them again. In person and alive that is. Bob was gone at 87, Wade at 92, and Aaron at 76. He showed up to their funerals, of course, but off to the side and hidden. He didn't belong there, he was too young. And his best friends were gone.  
All except one.  
This thought made him angry and he threw his phone at the heated dome above his head. Why did he get a circular bed? Why did it have to be heated? Why did all of his friends have to age past him without warning and he stay the same!? Mark gripped the pillow tighter and buried his face in it. It wasn't the first time he'd cry himself to sleep over this, he'd done it on and off for the last two thousand or so years and wasn't stopping now.  
After moping for a little while longer, he sat up, his wings sulking behind him, clearly conveying how upset he was. He crawled out of his warm, comfortable bed, stretched his back and stood for a moment. His boots and pants came off, so all he was standing in were his boxers and his wings. His fingers brushed over a series of marks on his thigh, a memory and a permanent scar for his lifespan. The names of his friends rested there, branded into his skin.  
Mark shook his head and walked to a window that faced his backyard, threw open the curtains and opened it as wide as possible. He screamed into the night. Agony, pain, and misery laced into his voice like the laces of a corset. He crossed his arms and leaned them on the window, silently placing his head on them. He had stopped crying a short time ago, and was breathing in the cold October air of his home. He looked at his leg, the branded words upside down to him, but Bob, Wade, Aaron, and Sean were all burned into his skin. And they ached. All except the name Sean.  
The name resonated in his head, causing a sudden swell of anger to rise in Mark's chest. He was angry at the man, but not because of him existing, of him dying, oh no. It was because in 2098 he left, saying that the next time he saw him, he would explain everything he needed to know. The sudden development of wings, his inability to age, his purpose. And then he left. No warning, jumped off the cliff and disappeared.  
The anger swelling in Mark's chest was too much and he returned to look out the window, the name Jack stuck on the tip of his tongue, but the J got caught in his throat, caught in the roof of his mouth, and the J left a bad taste in his mouth. So he went a different route.  
Mark screamed into the night, “SEAN MCLOUGHLIN!” There was obviously no answer to his cry, to the pain and hatred in his voice.  
He was glad there was no one around for several miles and that he was far from the main roads. He slammed the window shut and threw himself into his bed. In the tense silence, he swore he heard something move outside, but chalked it up to a wing twitching. Holding his phone and his pillow tightly, Mark slowly calmed and drifted off to sleep before midnight.  
A quiet beeping noise awoke him, and he opened his eyes to find the morning before him, wings outstretched and his pink hair an absolute mess. He stretched, his back muscles straining and loosening to mimic the motion of his arms. His wings moved in motion a swift motion, pulling him up and onto his feet. He turned towards the quiet beeping to find it was his alarm clock that he had smashed yesterday, still having some energy left in it. He kicked one of the pieces in amusement, silencing the machine once more.  
As Mark dressed, he contemplated calling Silas and asking for the day off, but thinking of how little work it would take to repair the AI for Kent, he decided against it. Now in a more brown, gold, and maroon colour pallet for clothing and his wings restrained, Mark snatched up his glasses from his side table and put them on, glad that there was some form of clarity to his vision now. After grabbing his phone and cleaning up the lampshade glass on the floor, he quickly did his bathroom routine and paraded out into the kitchen section of his house. Another disgusting 'Dr. Strangefire's All-Nourishment Drink' filled his stomach for the day, and he headed out to his vehicle. Giving the A-P the location he wanted to go to, the car started and it began to drive. Mark leaned back, the black hat on his head nearly falling off.  
The car came to a stop, and the automated voice spoke, 'Mark Fischbach, there seems to be an obstruction, I cannot drive through humans.'  
“What is... Never mind, thank you Ash.” Mark muttered and jumped out of the car, approaching a crowd of people at the end of the road staring at something in fear. “What's going on?” He asked someone.  
A young man with vibrant purple eyes turned to him and spoke in a panicked voice, “A creature came down and swooped up someone's child and carried it off somewhere! We think that she's dead, but the mother can't deal with that but I don't know, I was right--”  
“Hey, hey! Take it easy man, breathe,” Mark interrupted, his voice seeming to have a slight calming effect on the man.  
He closed his eyes and spoke again, “I was right behind them, and everyone it saying it was a monster, a horrible, horrible monster. But I saw it! It was more of a green blur of a man, with wings! One wing wasn't very healthy looking, it was weird and grotesque... Oh I hope the child is alright...”  
The man went back to worrying and Mark stood there dumbfounded, unable to think of what should be said. He looked in the direction everyone was looking and returned to his car. Off came his brown suit jacket, the black vest, the magnesium brace, the white shirt. He opened the glove box and tugged out a ragged piece of fabric, a blue flannel shirt with two large rips up the back. He threw it on and clicked the heels of his boots together, the black support bar turning into more of a rudder of some sort. He fit his wings through the back of the shirt and ran into the crowd and into the direction everyone seemed to be looking.  
“I hope I remember how to do this!” He whispered to himself and jumped, latching onto the edge of the building, using his wings for support. He scurried up the brick wall fast as people screamed and gasped, and extended his wings to full length. He ran, across rooftops, with momentum, with speed, and as the buildings became scarce, the wind picked up under his body and threw him up into the artificial sky. He stayed there briefly, taking in the scenery before looking for a green flying... thing. He glided around for a moment, looking hard before he saw something under him. A green blur of motion.  
He shouted at the figure and pulled his wings in, dropping fast and spreading them to soar after the blur, though it was still much too fast for him. He kept on it, at about a distance of 45 feet and in range of seeing it was holding a small, sleeping child. The green blur glanced back and saw Mark, before it dropped the child and tripped, falling into a ravine and sending Mark into an immediate stop. He fell hard to the ground, rolling and stopping just a few paces away from the girl. Without a second thought, he picked her up and tried to comfort her as he carried her back.  
His return with the girl was skeptical at first, but after returning to his car and putting his normal clothes back on, everyone was less tense than expected. The woman, named Alian thanked him with every thank you on the face of the earth for saving her poor, sweet, Lidia. Mark said it was nothing and smiled, returning to his vehicle. After he changed, he asked Ash to continue to work. The car complied and pulled out around everyone, rushing to the Kelju building. He didn't bother to say hello to anyone, as he was late. He simply walked to his office and sat down, looked at his AI workspace. Sure enough, there was a mechanical figure slouched over the edge of the table, a note stuck to it's forehead.  
Mark slowly approached the robot, hoping that Kent had remembered to turn the power off this time. He pulled the note off and shoved it in his pocket for the moment. It seemed to be shut down, and when this was confirmed, he laid it flat out on the table. The automaton creeped Mark out, to put it lightly. Too humanoid for his tastes, and too... Mannequin like. He shrugged and looked at the note that was previously on it's forehead.  
'Mark, his learning and memory have messed up, probably from falling down the stairs a few weeks ago. Much appreciated, Kent Laugh.'  
With a dull nod, he threw the note away and began to work diligently on the android. He felt around on the smooth head of the machine, the latex skin feeling all too foreign under his fingertips. A small latch near the base of the skull caught his attention, and pushing on it warranted the opening of the skull. Smoke rolled out of the chamber, making Mark cough harshly. Why the hell was there this much smoke in here? There had to be something else wrong, he pondered, and began to clear away the smoke. He grabbed a large paper fan off of a counter and blew away the smoke, the blackness scattering across his entire office. Good thing he didn't have to work this weekend, this place would smell like smoke for the next three days. From another surface, Mark picked up a small, eight-legged robot. The large vibrant blue eyeball in the middle stared at him and spoke in a devious voice.  
Mark placed the eye-spider on the hole over the skull, telling it to look for any issues with the wiring and mechanics. After several silent minutes of searching, the eye-spider pulled back and spoke.  
"I spied her!" There words were a sound clip from something he couldn't seem to recall.  
"That's a good Eye-spider. Now lets see what you see," Mark muttered to himself as he picked the machine up. A screen opened up on the top, displaying several loose wires, fried memory chips, and a broken cartridge for its programming. Not as bad as he thought it was, figuring that it was probably just the broken programming cartridge making all the smoke. He powered the eye-spider off and began to pull at the inner workings of the android. He carefully removed and replaced the loose wires, shocking the tips of his fingers multiple times.  
Removing the memory chips, which were holding its learning functions, he turned and opened a drawer in his desk. In it was a mass of chips, all properly organized and a little dusty. He removed what he needed and shut the drawer. Only a few minutes later, the android was done. With a sigh of relief, he attached a note to it for Kent and began to head out. He heard two voices speaking outside of his large work room door.  
"I spied her! I spied her!" A shrill voice cried, which froze Mark in his tracks. He turned to his personal workspace, seeing another eye-spider having a spasm on the desk. Normally, Mark would have waked over, shut it off, and left, but this felt different. This on was not his normal spiders, this was a special project that he had scrapped a while ago, due to some issues with the programming. It had been turned off for several months, but why was it on now? He approached the machine and picked it up.  
“Who?” He asked, wondering what the machine would play. It was programmed to react to certain frequencies of voices, identify them and play a sound clip of their voice.  
The machine buzzed and whirred, snippets of audio playing as it searched through the database. It stopped and Mark’s heart sank as the machine played an audio snippet. Over, and over, and over. He sunk to his knees, hoping that the machine was wrong.  
_‘Top of the morning to ya laddies, my name is JackSepticEye!’_  
_‘Top of the morning to ya laddies, my name is JackSepticEye!’_  
_‘Top of the morning to ya laddies, my name is JackSepticEye!’_

**~ViraLayton**


	2. Eoco Secra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eoco chased after them, fully intent on getting Mark to come home with him tonight. Mark dragged the stranger up a set of stairs that led to the second floor, ducking as Eoco threw the other half of the table at them. It grazed the hood of the jacket the stranger was wearing, pulling out a few strands of light hair. Blonde maybe. Eoco grabbed a chair and table from the dining room as they ran through the people dining. Eoco knocked people out of his way, disrupting the peace.  
> “Hey, if we die, my name is Mark,” the man muttered, looking at the stranger's covered appearance.  
> The stranger's eyes looked perplexed, but responded, “William. Jackson William.”  
> Mark nodded and stood still, looking at the man chasing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to **Adverant** for leaving such an awesome comment on the last chapter! I've been using it to help me write some parts of the story and shit like that. Also chapters only go up when the next one is one. Like this one only is up because Chapter 3 is done.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Even more sadness and misery because I'm a terrible person. Also attempted unwarranted sexual shit. Idfk. Mark gets his pizza.

He waited.  
For several hours, he waited and just wished that the sound-based eye-spider would stop talking, stop repeating the phrase over, and over, and over. The sound his friend made at the beginning of every video. The 11, or was it technically 13? words that he said every time as his intro.  
After the first 5 minutes, Mark shut the eye-spider off, threw it in anger, it knocking into the visual-based eye-spider. After 5 more minutes, Mark pulled out his phone. Holding down three buttons on the back that super-imposed the internet on the device, Mark pulled open his YouTube app. For being in a 1700's feeling place, he sure was glad he could find some source of internet somewhere.  
He tapped the screen a few times to hold the connection, then dug through his small list of subscriptions and pulled up Jack. He tapped the third-to-last video he had put up, called “ONE LAST TIME | Spirit of the Dragon Multiplayer w/ Markiplier #7”  
He watched it for the millionth time, seeing the curves of costume make-up on their faces, to make them look older. At this point, Mark was about 57 and Jack was 56. Good god, they looked like hell, but it looked convincing. They were having a good laugh, a good party around, being the loveable goobers that they were. The video was roughly 17 minutes long, and it minimized a few moments after.  
Second-to-last, “PAX EAST VLOG” Mark didn't watch it, it was too painful to watch, seeing him get sad that it was the last convention they could attend, the last 'hoorah' before they parted ways.  
He stared at his last video, featuring both himself and the Irishman in the thumbnail, with minimal age make-up on. “My Last Video.” He listened to the outside world, still hearing voices outside of his office. He tapped the video. Jack addressed that both he and Mark were getting too old, not being as entertaining as they used to be, and apologized for it, and Mark cut in saying that they would both be stopping uploading in their age. The sadness was so visible in their eyes that it hurt, and Mark stared at them both in utter sadness before shutting off the fake internet and powering off his phone. He laid back on the floor and stared at the ceiling through the smoke.  
He remembered exactly what had happened after Jack had stopped recording. He had turned to Mark and was on the edge of tears, and Mark was as well. After over 35 years of YouTube and videos, they had no idea what to do. Jack, or he figured at the time, Sean placed his forehead on Mark's chest, just staring blankly at the black shirt he was wearing. Mark looked down, wrapped his arms around Sean and hugged him, the two completely silent and dumbfounded. He had reached over and grabbed a wet washcloth off the counter, cleaned his face of the make-up and pulled back from Sean. The smaller man took it and did the same.  
“Mark,” he had said, “What're we going to do? What's... What's wrong with us?”  
“Nothing is wrong with us, Ja...” The name felt weird then. “Sean. I guess... We're just different.”  
“Different means nothing, Mark!” He had hollered, stepped away from Mark with anger and fear in his eyes. “How does it feel to you to watch everyone age past you!? We still look like we're 20!”  
Mark stared at Sean before responding, “I... It doesn't feel fair.”  
“No, it fucking doesn't!” Sean ran his fingers through his hair and sat in Mark's office chair. That's right, Mark remembered, Sean had came over to visit and get away from the stress of his un-aging face everyone had noticed.  
The memory faded from Mark's head as the heavy door to his office began to open. He quickly ran to his personal workstation and slid under a desk in the shadows. He didn't want to be bothered by anyone right now. A voice echoed through the smokey room, “Mark, it's Silas! Someone wants to meet you!” He yelled. After Mark remained silent, the door opened the rest of the way. “I guess he finished the thing he needed to do today and went home. Sorry you didn't get to meet him early, Mr. William.”  
“No need to worry, I will meet him next week.” A deep voice responded. It sounded like it was forced, but Mark didn't say a word.  
“I can show you around his office, if you want me to,” Mark heard Silas say, followed by footsteps walking through the area. “This is his waiting area, though no one is usually here. Over there is his robot area, he fixes, programs, and sometimes builds Automatons, robots, androids, you name it.”  
The footsteps drew closer, as well as an odd cyan glow, very displaced from the brass, bronze, gold, and silvers he usually saw in this industrial era. The two people walked over, Silas standing close to where Mark was hiding, the glow right across from him.  
The glow came from a pair of white boots, the tall heels glowing brightly and illuminating the area. Mark looked away and hoped that nothing he was wearing reflected light. “This is his personal workstation. I think smaller things like small robots, instruments, and things like that are fixed here too.” The two walked away and Mark looked back, seeing something on the ground, but not moving to pick it up. “And this is the main work area, for prosthetics, vehicles, even weapons sometimes. You name it, he's built it.”  
The second man spoke, “He seems to have quite the repertoire.”  
Silas laughed, “Inventor, Programmer, Robot Master, and Engineer, what more could you ask for? He's perfect for this field.”  
“Seems like quite the guy. I hope I get to meet him next week.”  
“If he doesn't come in late every day, then I don't see why not!” Silas laughed loudly and the two began to walk away, Silas talking his ear off like it was the end of the world.  
After the door shut, Mark got up and stretched, his back popping in the silence. He picked up the object he had seen and examined it. It was a feather, green and speckled with white and a spot of pink. Or was it red maybe? He pocketed the object and rushed over to the large work area, popping open a large air duct and jumping in, to avoid being seen by Silas and the rest of his co-workers. However, Mark didn't notice that the sound-based and visual eye-spiders were now missing from where he threw them.  
He crawled around as quietly as he could in the darkness of the duct, feeling along the walls for grooves; little inconsistencies that reminded him of which direction to go. Left, left, right, slide down, straight, right, vent, outside. He was in the parking lot, and after spotting his car, he ran to it, worried for some reason. He held his hand over the sensor and hopped in, Ash's robotic voice popping up, 'Good afternoon, Mark Fischbach. Where would you like to go?”  
“Table-flip Pub and Grub,” He said, all the air leaving his voice.  
Ash responded, 'Certainly. Redirecting to, Table-flip Pub and Grub, time of arrival, 5:17 PM on Friday, October 16, 4015. Sit back and relax while you are whisked through the roads.'  
Mark looked down at himself, to his jacket, vest, everything. He pulled his phone out of his vest pocket and tapped around. After a while, he found some good music and played it. It was a song from Matthias he just happened to have, _Backwards_. He sat back and placed the phone in the cup-holder slot, the sound echoing in the metal.  
“Ash, what time is it?” Mark asked after the song switched.  
'The time now is 4:35 PM on Friday, October 16, 4015, Mark Fischbach.' The robotic voice rattled off, 'Approximately forty-two minutes until arrival at Table-flip Pub and Grub.'  
Mark let off a guttural groan, so long just to go get a drink. He debated on taking a nap, but that just wouldn't get him in the mood for a drink. He sighed and picked his phone up again, the device blaring a song he didn't pay attention to. He flipped through his apps and opened Skype, reading through his old messages.  
All of the conversations had been deleted, except for those from Wade, Bob, Aaron, and Sean. He opened them all, reading them to pass his time. Some from when his friends were on the last leagues of their lives, some from Jack-- Sean, he corrected, that were really lengthy, wordy, cryptic. He read all of his friends conversations.  
'Thanks for everything man.'  
'I hope the rest of your life treats you well. Seems to.'  
'Sucks that we can't see each other soon, but I hope you're doing well :).'  
'I'm looking everything up, I'll see you soon I hope.'  
Mark felt the weight in his chest, the pain of not seeing them. The brand in his leg started to sting, though he always wondered why it happened, he always brushed it off to being emotional pain or something like that. Why did he decide on a brand in the first place again? To make it feel more permanent? No, to make him know the pain of their living. Some philosophic bullshit like that, he guessed.  
He glanced up at the road and tried to take in the outside world. He was on a highway, the road completely made of thick solar-powered panels, glowing behind him as he drove over them. Trees along the side were sparse, and the ones that were there were quickly losing their leaves. The fake sunlight and artificial air did it, he figured. Ahead he saw the landscape of the city, several miles away still but the smog rising above it made it obvious. Tall round buildings jutted up from the sky, with several oddly built towers rising around them. Zeppelins, flying cars, and all balloons of all sorts few in and out of the big city, and he could see the ocean slowly coming up over the horizon. The town was a double port, an airship port for the larger air vehicles and a port, for all the boats that came in and out. He glanced towards the ocean and saw a large cargo boat just coming in, the giant paddle-wheel on the back working in overdrive and masses of steam rolling out of the pillars on the top. Like most everything else, it was bronze and gold.  
The car drove into the city, driving on a narrow road that rode beside a river. Houses were build to curve over the road and the river, some connecting like bridges, other looking like they could fall apart at any second. The roofs had their edges curled out, almost in a pagoda style. He passed a large, round building with a domed roof, gears and pistons working slowly and efficiently, pumping the water in the river to create electricity for everyone. People stared at him and his vibrant hair as he drove by, and Mark slumped into his seat, continuing to read his old messages. With a sigh, he stopped his music and put the phone down. He looked around, seeing the roads transitioning from the less cared for part of town to a slightly nicer section.  
This part was heavily industrial, and very hilly, Mark noticed. The factories and coal covered houses were build into the sides of each hill, brick and wooden walls held together by brass bolts and decorative edges. One building he passed had a large glass ball on top of a tower, electricity jumping around the inside edges. Tesla electricity, or Aether, he figured, and made a mental note of grabbing his Tesla Glove the next time he left home. A zeppelin flew by overhead, the exterior striped with yellows and blues.  
He reached the more developed part of the town, where the buildings were rounded in the front and reached several stories. One building that was several hundred stories tall had a large moving gear coming halfway out of it. His car pulled up in front of a large building on a corner, completely made up of glass and a brass or bronze. A large glass balcony jutted out several stories up, and between the rounded front and the balcony sat a large Victorian clock, each hand made of a large skeleton key. Three lamp posts stood outside the club, signs between them reading 'TABLE-FLIP' and 'PUB AND GRUB.' He left his car, the vehicle moving to park itself somewhere as Mark walked in through the silver doors. People sat at tables made of clock faces and chairs made of old wheels from the really old cars, roughly from when he was in his 20's.  
He approached the bar and sat in a golden stool, adjusting himself and looking at the golden bartender, an automaton. 'Hello sir, what may I get you?' It asked, giving Mark a peculiar sense of dread, but he looked at the alcohol and drinks behind him.  
“Just a cinnamon whiskey if you have one,” Mark muttered. The robot nodded and went to retrieve his order. Mark sat back into the golden bars of the stool, noticing everyone had gone silent and was staring at him. More prominently, his head. Guess pink hair wasn't a normal thing to have. The automaton returned with his drink and handed it to him. Mark took it with a shaky hand and told the machine his last name before taking a sip of the drink.  
A man sat in the stool next to him and ordered a bottle of vodka and Mark eyed him. Blonde, blue eyes, silver vest and black everything else. A golden pocket watch stuck out of his vest and a pair of brass goggles sat on his head. He was a pilot or an engineer, he assumed.  
The man noticed him and turned towards him, “Well hello there, handsome.”  
Mark almost choked on his drink, but turned to look at him, “Good evening, sir.”  
“I haven't seen you in this fine establishment, I don't think. I'm quite a frequent visitor of this place.” He said quickly, his voice rough and higher pitched than Mark's.  
“I usually only come when I'm feeling down, like right now.” Mark took another drink of his whiskey. He really didn't want to hold a conversation right now, but the man persisted.  
“Hey now, Eoco Secra is my name darling, what's your preferred title?” Mark could literally feel the vodka on his breath.  
So he lied, “Edward Stone.” He hoped it was convincing enough for the drunk man.  
The automaton came back with his bottle and he took a swig from it, “Edward Stone. Fancy name for a fancy gent like you. What do you do Mr.,” he paused and took another drink, “Stone?”  
Again, he lied, “I'm an airship designer. It's fun work. What about you, Mr. Secra?”  
“Oh, please dear Edward, call me Eoco. I'm a philanthropist and valve turner on a beautiful airship you may have designed.” He said, leaning closer to Mark.  
Mark tried to appear disinterested, but he supposed that it wasn't working on the man, “Maybe, I only work on minimal things like where windows go, what wood or metal is used. Things of that nature.” He grit his teeth.  
“That's a beautiful skill to have. I respect it a lot,” Eoco slurred, taking a massive gulp of his vodka, “Say, you handsome fellow, how's about you and I take this conversation to a more... Secluded location?” He reached out to touch Mark's face, but he pulled away. “What's wrong, dear Edward?”  
“Look, I'm sorry but I'm not interested. I just want to sit here alone and sulk over my drink.” Mark responded, which was apparently a bad decision to the drunken man next to him.  
“I'm sorry?”  
“I just want to be alone tonight, Mr. Secra,”  
Eoco grabbed his arm and stood up, starting to yank him away from the bar, and he was a good deal stronger than Mark, “I know better, it's just your whiskey talking. You don't really want to be alone. Eoco knows best.”  
Mark grabbed his barstool, glad that they were attached to the floor, “No, sir, I really do want to be alone!” Mark held on with all of his might, but Eoco got the best of him and dragged him through the bar. “Let me go!” He half yelled, trying to pull away.  
Eoco looked purely blissful until someone got up from a chair and stood in front of him, and he stopped to look at them.  
They were dressed in all black, and even had a Venetian mask on over their face. A bright blue glow emanated from one eye, “I'd recommend that you let him go.” The light voice said, straining to stay calm. Mark thought that the man's efforts would be futile, seeing as how Mark and the stranger were both shorter than Eoco by a good foot or so.  
Eoco simply knocked him out of the way, sending the small man into a few tables, shocked gasps and murmuring sliding into the silence. The stranger stood up, and Mark noted that the glow was now a lime green colour. “Stay out of my way, puny.”  
The stranger scoffed and ran at Eoco but was knocked backwards immediately. Eoco threw Mark at him and picked up a table. “If that's how you're going to play,” he broke it in half, “Then that's how we'll play!”  
Mark and the stranger exchanged a worried look, Mark seeing his blue eyes from under his mask. Eoco threw half of the table at them, which made Mark grab the stranger and pull him out of the way. The half crashed into a window, shattering it.  
Eoco chased after them, fully intent on getting Mark to come home with him tonight. Mark dragged the stranger up a set of stairs that led to the second floor, ducking as Eoco threw the other half of the table at them. It grazed the hood of the jacket the stranger was wearing, pulling out a few strands of light hair. Blonde maybe. Eoco grabbed a chair and table from the dining room as they ran through the people dining. Eoco knocked people out of his way, disrupting the peace.  
“Hey, if we die, my name is Mark,” the man muttered, looking at the stranger's covered appearance.  
The stranger's eyes looked perplexed, but responded, “William. Jackson William.”  
Mark nodded and stood still, looking at the man chasing him. From a normal level, he was 6 feet tall, roughly, with a thin frame and small muscles under his black dress shirt but boy did he have some arm strength. The back of the chair was broken off and thrown at Mark, but Jackson shoved him out of the way, getting a broken metal rod right to the shoulder. He let out a pained noise, which Mark noticed was oddly robotic and broken. This completely left his mind as the other half of the chair was thrown. Mark grabbed the arm of Jackson's that didn't just have metal thrown at it and dragged him to the stairs to the third floor.  
Eoco broke the bottom steps by dragging up another two chairs and the previous table up with him, chasing them out to the glass balcony. He backed them up to the railing and set his weapons down. His hand quickly lunged for Jackson, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him up off the ground. Mark jumped for him, but Eoco used Jackson to hit him to the ground.  
The Venetian mask fell off, but the nighttime lights were too bright for him to make out anything of his face, other than a large burn near his eye.  
Eoco grumbled and squished the man's neck tighter, causing something to break and fall off. Eoco kicked it towards Mark and started yelling at the stranger.   
“My, how pitiful you look in this light, Jackson, was it? You may look even more useful than dear Edward did, though he's much more handsome than you. Scars and electronic eyes just don't cut it for me, sweetie.” Mark fumbled for the box and saw it was a Voice Manipulator. No wonder the man sounded strange a moment ago.  
“What beautiful eyes you have though, those vibrant blues.” Eoco rambled on drunkenly. Mark got up slowly with the box in his hands and threw it as hard as he could at the glass near Eoco. It simply cracked the glass, doing no real damage.  
The tall man laughed, throwing Jackson into the railing. “You think that'll do anything, Stone?” Mark glanced to Jackson, his hooded jacket covering his face. Eoco took a step towards Mark, stepping on the broken glass lightly. Mark's face flushed and he stepped back, bumping into the metal railing and glass. Eoco reached for Mark, but a bright light flashed under him and the man fell through the glass floor, getting caught on the hand of the giant clock and began to swear loudly.  
Mark looked towards the direction of the light and saw it was Jackson. He was standing up, his hood over his face and a sort of burgundy and silver aether gun in his hands. He stumbled towards the mask and placed it on, looking at Mark and his confused expression.  
Jackson spoke in a voice that Mark felt was way to forced and raspy, “Mark, listen to me. You never saw me tonight. I never existed. Tell no one of me. Understood?” Mark was silent, and Jackson took his silence for a yes. He placed his aether gun in his belt and a set of wings emerged from his back. Mark slumped down, speechless, dumbfounded that he had them as well.  
One of his was a feathered, angelic wing, each feather green and had splotches of white and light pink in them. The other wing was a dragon-like, leathery wing, the bones inside black and the skin stretching between them dark green. He clutched his shoulder and jumped off of the balcony, disappearing into the night. Mark's jaw hung open and he rushed over to the place he had jumped from. A feather sat on the ground, and the man grabbed it and stuck in in his pocket. He was awestruck.  
It was the man that Silas had toured around his work space today. Jackson William. Mark tried to recall why that name sounded familiar, but it didn't come to him.  
Mark went home and peeled off his clothing like he did the night before, stripping down to everything but boxers and actually put his clothes in the correct place this time. From the floor he picked up his Ace Bandage, carefully slipping it on to not bother his wings. The cool air of his house hit his bothered skin, leaving the feeling of late fall on his mind. He left the room for his office space and sat in the chair, turning on the ancient and outdated computer. He needed to get his mind off of what just happened, and he figured his old hobby would help. He stared at the screen, at the vast galaxy of a background he had. Space. That picture soothed him, somehow, and he smiled.  
Maybe a game would calm him. But Mark didn't touch the keyboard or the mouse. He just stared at the stars on his background. He glanced down to his task bar and saw a program was open. Photo viewer. He silently clicked it, the mouse movements and clicks monumental in the house. The photo being viewed was a picture of him and Jack.  
Mark stared in wonder and confusion, tracing the picture with his eyes. It was the second-to-last time that he had ever seen the bouncy Irishman, and they celebrated it with a picture. Jack was wearing the blue hoodie he wore in a lot of his pictures, and Mark had his red flannel shirt on. His arm was around the smaller man's shoulders, and vice versa. They looked happy in the picture, but the fear in his friend's eyes said it all.  
Mark pushed his fingertips to the screen, hoping he could reach in and pull him out, be happy, be with someone he knew, have someone familiar to talk to. But it didn't work that way.  
“Sean... I just wish you would come back,” he muttered to himself. “You said that 1,917 years ago you would come back. Tell me everything... Oh jeez Jack where the fuck are you!?” he shouted. He rested his elbows on the wooden desk, his head in his hands. He pulled at his hair, then decided he should shut his computer off.  
Mark went back to his room and reached into the pocket of his jacket he wore today. He grabbed the two feathers that were in it, and sat down on his bed. He twisted the two feathers in his hands, feeling the soft fibers of them. He played with the green spots, the white splotches, the tiny pink speckles, and just admired them. He thought to Jackson and thought that he had to be such a beautiful person to have such beautiful wings. Absentmindedly, he reached back and felt through his wings until he found a loose feather. He pulled it free and compared it to the green ones. His were plainly red, a crimson shade and half of a half was grey on this particular one, with some striping on it.  
Mark got up again, heading to the bathroom and grabbed the plastic cup from the cabinet. He placed the three feathers in it and set them on the counter, smiling at how it looked. Returning to his room, he picked up the broken pieces of his holographic clock and set them on his side-table. From the drawer he grabbed a small repairing and replacement kit, adjusting wires, placing the parts back together, rewiring, changing the screen and the lighting system, and when he set it back down, the time 3:22 AM, and Saturday, October 17, 4015 projected into the air. Mark noted that his eyes felt heavy, but refused to sleep.  
He thought back that 'a great man' had once said, “Sleep is for the weak!” The words amused him and he wandered into his kitchen, opening all of his shelves and dug out as much usable food as he could and needed. Bowls, knife, and the oven heated, Mark got to work at 3 AM on making food, and by the time 4:15 rolled around, Mark had a large, fully made pizza sitting on his counter. And granted, it wasn't fully a tried and true pizza by any standards, it was still a pizza. By 4:52 half of the pizza was gone, and at 5:07 Mark was asleep on the counter next to it, three pieces still left and a cramp in his neck to wake up to.  
A loud crash of thunder interrupted Mark's sleep, and he jolted up to find his sleeping place at the counter. It was raining, which was unusual for this time of year and even the circumstances of the place; it rarely rained. So the thunder and lightning over his house was welcome. He grabbed a piece of cold pizza and walked to the backdoor. He flung it open and stared as the water flooded the earth of his backyard. A smile crept across his face and he stepped out as soon as his pizza was gone.  
The droplets rolled down his back, down his face, down his legs, and down his closed wings. He stood there, looking at the sky and staring at the clouds above. He pulled down his Ace Bandage and extended his wings, the red and grey feathers adjusting to the rain and he smiled. 15 feet on each side, his entire body getting drenched in rain, and the water felt amazing.  
Amazing until he heard rustling in the trees, much faster rustling than what the wind or a bird would do. By instinct, his wings came around his body to hide him, and he called out, “Who's there!? I know there's something or someone there!”  
There was more rustling and two tiny creatures emerged from the tree. The eye-spiders. Mark gained a really confused look and opened his wings back up. He shook them off best he could and pulled them to his back. He picked the robots up as they crawled towards him and he brought them inside. “How did you two even get back here? I thought you were both off.”  
'Oh nevermind!' The audio one played, and bumped the video one. The screen opened in the top of it and the two synced up, showing Mark what had happened in sparse little clips.  
“I'm so sorry Mr. William that Mark wasn't in right now, he works too hard so I let him go home when all of his work is done.”  
“It's alright, Mr. Kjellberg, it's no big deal. It lets you know how hard he's working.”  
The two voices Mark identified as Silas and the man with him yesterday in his work area. The audio went fuzzy and something popped up on the screen, the audio playing along with it.  
“It is Mark, I fucking knew it. There's no way it's not,” The voice spoke, Mr. William, and showed the back of someone's head as they were driving a large, diamond-shaped vehicle with a fan for power on the front. They reached up to their throat and pulled something off, tossing it into the passenger seat. Mark briefly thought that perhaps Jackson Williams was who this person was, and the object from his throat almost confirmed it.  
The man was quiet, “Why are you showing me this, guys?”  
The speaker spider moved, playing 'SHUT UP' as it's sound of choice this time. Mark had a brief thought, the name Jackson William on the tip of his tongue now when he heard the man in the feed talk again. He froze.  
“Time to go get a nice strong drink, in't it Jackaboy? Ye, time for a drink,” The unmistakable voice said, and Mark felt a little dizzy.  
The eye-spider played a sound-clip, 'Top of the morning to ya laddies, my name is JackSepticEye!'  
“It... It's Jack. Sean,” Mark's voice fell silent and he had to take a seat to avoid collapsing right there. He grabbed another piece of pizza, leaving one left. “He's... Looking for me.”  
'Yes!' A sound clip of himself. Clever robots.  
The two robots then showed Mark a fight, from a ceiling perspective of three men. One wielded a chair and table, the other two standing extremely close to each other. One is shoved out of the way and the pusher takes a metal chair back to the shoulder. “This is the fight from last night,” Mark held his head, “Jackson William is... That's why it's so familiar, isn't it?”  
'Yes!'  
The last thing that the spiders showed him was a dark room with a dim green light to it. A man wandered in and sat on a bed, shirtless, mask-less, and gripping his shoulder like it was broken. Mark let a loud gasp escape his lips before he silenced his mouth. The man looked up, looked around, and pulled a machine off of his eye, with part still stuck to his face. He spoke, “I know you're both there, robots. Come out.” He said, and the feed showed the spiders coming out of the shadows and being picked up by the man.  
“I think I know the man who made you two,” He hissed in pain, looking at both spiders, “He's a very sweet person.” Mark's eyes dropped to the floor as the video kept playing. “A sweet, kind, caring person that deserves a better friend than myself.” A laugh played, “Run back to him and bring him this message. Mark.” The man looked up, and saw that green gentleman smiling at the camera, “Mark, I... I'll see you Monday.”  
The feed cut out and both spiders turned to Mark, who was sitting in his stool against the counter. His heart pounded and he felt giddy, but afraid and angry.  
“Audio, play it again.”  
'Yes!' It bounced and made rewinding noises, “I think I know the man who made you two. He's a very sweet person. A sweet, kind person that deserves a better friend than myself.”  
Mark made a motion for it to stop. He waited. “Sean... You deserve a better friend than myself too...”

~ViraLayton


	3. Sam Eye-Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering the reflective glass. Shards stuck in his hands and stung, but he didn't bother to pull them out. He sulked to his room and sat down. The eye-spider wandered in, almost scared.  
> It climbed into his lap and stood there, the points on it’s legs digging into his thighs. “He was right there. Why didn’t he just say something else!?” He stared at his bleeding fists and the pain began to settle in, and one by one he pulled out each shard of glass that graced his fingers, knuckles, and palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad everyone enjoys this oh dear. I didn't think I was that good.  
> 3rd chapter is like half done, but that's cool because I can make you all wait longer for the next chapter because I do two at a time :D
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Black Markets, some answers to questions, arguing, and eye-spiders being cute li'l shits.

More thunder.  
Mark's head was aimed towards the floor and he stared at the wooden tiles of the floor, and the two eye-spiders stared at him blankly. The sound-based one jumped, 'No!' it played an audio clip of Jack's voice. 'You're perfect!' A different audio clip, someone he didn't recognize.  
Mark sighed and lifted the spiders off of his countertop, “You two are too optimistic. I'm just...”  
Audio cut in, 'He's a very sweet person. A sweet, kind person that deserves a better friend than myself.' They jumped in his hands in anticipation.  
“I just don't think that I'm doing a very good job. But, whatever. He said we'd see him tomorrow, and tomorrow is a new day. Now I'm out of groceries that I have to get at the bazaar and I still want more goddamn pizza.” Mark got up and plastered a smile on his face, setting the robots down and rushing to his room. He looked around, and decided he didn't want to wear much of what he had now. The whole 'steampunk' part of his life now was feeling really mundane. He walked to the closet, opened the metal doors and dug through the piles of clothing at the bottom. He found a leather suitcase and unzipped it hastily, digging through all of his old clothing and found what he was looking for.  
Jeans. Black ones, torn, old, and musty from being in the base of his closet for so long. Underneath them were his old shirts, old jackets, and assorted items from his past. He slipped the comfortable fabric on and pulled off his Ace Bandage. One side shot out, making Mark flinch. A kink from several hundred years ago, made it tough to hold that one in. A deep breath made the muscles relax, the wings hanging idly off his back and dragging on the ground. He looked up at the clothes hanging off of a pole in his closet. He grabbed one, a tattered dress shirt clung to the hanger and slipped it on, the rips on the back of the shirt fit around his massive wings.  
He felt comfortable, and grabbed a final few things from the top of the shelf. A plain, white, full-faced mask and a wallet. He slipped the mask on and the wallet into his pocket. A final grab of his iPhone and he was out the back door, his wings expanding and taking him away from the city.  
He closed his eyes, letting his wings and the air guide him to the bazaar. He lifted up and felt a mass amount of light above him, breaking through the layers of the storm clouds. He assumed it was the sky. The fake sky, made of voxels and glowing lights, coated with dust and coal. The tips of his wings brushed the clouds, guiding him around and making him forget what kind of an era he lived in.  
But in the end, it wasn't what he was looking forward to. Everything always ended up looking the same, all metal and brick and leathers. He had grown used to it, of course. Mark flipped over onto his back, the giant, feathered wings guiding him as he stared at the sky. The colour today was a boring shade of blue, no other colours in it besides what the clouds added to them. He reached a hand up, his fingertips brushing the LCD voxels before he was violently dipped down. He realigned himself and skidded through the sudden onslaught of trees, finally coming to a full stop.  
He stood before a little knoll with a large heavy-duty door on the side closest to him. He folded his wings in as he felt was proper and knocked loudly. A slot opened in the door, and a clipboard, pen, and paper slid out. Three things were written on it, 'Name,' 'Age,' and 'Answer to the Sphinx's riddle.' He grabbed the pen and mumbled to himself, “Mark E. Fischbach, 2,026, Man.”  
The objects slipped back into the slot, and after a moment of impatience, the large wheel on the door turned. It swung open just enough for him to slip in, shutting moments after. The air hit him, stale, old, and it smelled like dirt. Like the sky and trees and real earth. He shook his head and walked in, the tables littered with objects of the past that could be bought and sold, traded and bartered away. And at maximum capacity, this place held 980 people. Five from every country. 979 people that were like him in many ways.  
He walked towards the back, moving away from the gadgets, the books and movies, the electronics, and found himself in a food section. Real food, made by those who could be down here. Humans like him. He walked past familiar faces and masks, thinking of their names. Nate walked by, looking like hell. Warrant bumped into several others, rushing towards a collapsing pile of boxes. Emmy and Claire walked by, Claire giving off a subtle white glow. That wasn't uncommon, Mark thought, but not common either. Just ommon.  
He grabbed a large tote bag off of a nearby shelf, and tossed everything he could possibly need into it, but being careful to not take too much. The bazaar only had a limited supply, and Mark wasn't intent on making that run out any time soon. He paid the people running each stand and kept walking further to the back.  
Way in the back of the bazaar was a section for fixing cosmetics. They were thousands of years old, they'd need a bit of a touch up eventually. It was also where he would have his hair fixed. Though he would love to not have pink hair anymore, a law passed years ago, after the war, said that you could only colour your hair if you could prove your ancestors did. He always referred to his 26 year old self when asked, but just kept it pink for the sake of being someone who could. He approached a seat and sat down for his turn, not paying attention to who was around him. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.  
"Rough day?" Someone asked. Mark looked and saw a girl, her vibrant blue hair faded and dressed casually. A large gold mask covered half of her face, and he recognized her as Morgan. She sat up, "You look like you just had an existential crisis."  
"Not really, just found an old friend from thousands of years ago." He ran his fingers through his hair, "Just trying to not freak out. Haven't seen him in forever, so I don't know what to say when I see him next."  
Morgan nodded and twirled her hair around her fingers, "I know what that feels like. I ran into someone a while ago too. We're inseparable."  
"Lucky you," Mark said, a tone of disdain in his voice.  
Morgan's name was called and she slipped off her mask, her eyes vibrant against the paleness of her skin. She turned to him, "He probably feels the same way you do, Mark. Just ride it out, alright?" With that, she walked to a seat and the stylist began to redo her hair.  
Mark stared at the ceiling and felt for his phone, and started to pull it out when his name was called. Many minutes followed, and dull pink turned to vibrant pink again. He checked the time, 5:42 PM and nearing dusk. He thanked the stylist and paid her, grabbing his bag of food and began to leave. As he walked through the rows of tables and stands, a loud crash resounded from across the bazaar, and nearly everyone’s head turned.  
There was a fight beginning to break out, but this wasn’t uncommon as the different ideals of thousand year old humans made for some heated arguments. This one felt fueled by rage, and Mark thought he could feel the anger rolling off of those involved. In the centre of a group of people stood three figures, two large ones against a smaller figure, just under Mark’s height. The two large ones wore mostly the clothing of the era, large leather jackets around their large torsos, covered with various buckles and zippers. Aviator helmets hung off of their belts and and short blunderbusses in holsters as well. Sky pirates, he figured.  
The small man was in a long, tattered, green trenchcoat with a familiar blue jacket underneath. Black pants, or leggings almost, tucked into white boots with glowing blue heels. Mark paused for a second and thought. The man in his office on Friday had those shoes. The man on Saturday had that jacket, and as he looked to his face, that Venitian mask and that robotic, metallic eye.  
“Jack. Sean,” he muttered under his breath, pushing his way through the crowd and standing right in the front lines of the fight arena. The two large men leapt for Sean, the small man ducking out of the way with ease.  
“A c’mon ye assholes, you can do better than that!” he taunted, ducking as a leg of a table went straight for his face, clipping his ear slightly. “You can’t even hit the broadside of a barn with that aim!”  
The larger of the two men jumped for Sean, the man slipping out of the way with oddly quick strides. He turned to make another snide comment, but was met with a flat tabletop straight to his mouth. He stumbled backwards, bumping into a few people before retaliating with a stand sign. The smaller of the two large men toppled into a stand selling lanterns, surprisingly not breaking any in the violence.  
“McLoughlin!” One yelled, and threw a punch at Sean. It landed straight on his jaw, knocking his mask and parts of his eye off. Mark cringed, his expression twisted under his blank mask. Several mumbles went around the crowd, since it was an understood rule that you didn’t take off anyone’s mask without their permission. Most people in the room preferred to hide their face from who they were in the past.  
Sean stood up and kicked his mask to the side, the light on his now shattered eye turning from green to red. It made Mark curious and he watched the man carefully. He remembered it was blue at one point, bright green as well. Sean approached the man and shoved his hands into his pockets. He pulled on two gloves with wiring on the inside, on the fingers. Tesla gloves, like Mark had.  
Mark slowly pulled off his mask to watch with unaltered vision, as did several other people in the crowd.  
The large man looked slightly worried, glancing down at Sean, “Oops,” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, “So sorry Sean, didn’t mean to make you look like a fool in front of everyone.”  
Sean’s face was red, his light glowing so hard it threatened to break. “I’m gonna fuckin' kill ye, Clark.” He extended his gloves and electricity sparked at the tips, “Sam!” Mark stared in confusion and watched as an eye-spider climbed up onto his shoulder, the thin legs clinging to his jacket. The spider jumped with anticipation. Wait, was that his eye-spider? Why did he have it?  
‘Yes!’  
“Smoke them, please.” Sean asked, and the eye-spider crawled onto his head. The speaker in the front opened up and thick, green smoke poured out and his Tesla glove created a ball of pure electricity. He fired it off into the smoke, the energy hitting the large man, and through the confusion that followed Mark saw Sean running towards the front exit. Hr grabbed his things and ran after him, hearing the men that were fighting try chasing after.  
Sean emerged from the smoke and Mark saw glance back to see him running. He went to yell for him but a nod from the Irishman made him run faster to catch up.  
Through his breaths he spoke, "Fancy seein' you here, Sean!"  
He laughed, "I come here all the time Mark, leave your house for once!" Mark smiled, it was almost as if nothing had happened between them, but Mark looked back, "Chair!"  
The ducked and Sean laughed loudly, "'S what I get fer sayin' my opinion I suppose."  
They ran up the stairs to the door and it swung open for them to rush out. It slammed behind them and they heard the chaos of the others inside. A laugh escaped Mark and he turned to say something to Sean, but the man was preparing to take off already. They made eye contact and Sean's eyes filled with emotions. "Jack."  
"Tomorrow, Mark." He jumped up, his wings suddenly extending from his back and catching air under them. He marveled at them like he had unknowingly did on Saturday when Eoco was after them. In his admiration, Sean flew off, his speed alarming and left Mark in the dust.  
Mark eventually made it home, sulking into the kitchen. He put all his new food away and dragged himself to his bathroom. His eye-spider watched, learning his motions and followed after him. He turned on the sink and listened to the water run in the silver bowl. He looked in the mirror, his reflection perfect and the mirror untouched. He looked at the moon-lights above him, casting various shades onto the industrial bathroom. Back to the mirror went his eyes and he let out a yell. He slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering the reflective glass. Shards stuck in his hands and stung, but he didn't bother to pull them out. He sulked to his room and sat down. The eye-spider wandered in, almost scared.  
It climbed into his lap and stood there, the points on it’s legs digging into his thighs. “He was right there. Why didn’t he just say something else!?” He stared at his bleeding fists and the pain began to settle in, and one by one he pulled out each shard of glass that graced his fingers, knuckles, and palms. They all stung, making him cringe every time he pulled at them. One at a time, slowly, and as carefully as possible. The bigger shards he saved for last, and he noticed that they stung more and bled profusely.  
He picked up the eye-spider and set it on his shoulder, then returned to the bathroom. He stepped around the shards and looked in his cupboard. Bandages were the only thing he saw, and with little choice he pulled the roll out, taking care and wrapping his hand in the fabric. His bleeding hands slowly made the bandage turn red, but he just felt terrible at the moment. His eyes went to the robot on his shoulder, and his eyes scanned his home. With a sigh, Mark yet again returned to his bed and crawled under the covers. He didn’t bother with his clothing, his Ace Bandage, his shoes.  
He didn’t know he had fallen asleep, but his alarm going off and the eye-spider on his head certainly didn’t let him stay asleep. He waved the robot off and waved his hand over his alarm, quickly shutting it off. He grumbled and sat up. He vaguely thought that he didn’t want to get up, that maybe he’d fake dying again and become another version of himself for a while. But the thought of it being Monday suddenly struck him.  
It was Monday. Sean said he’d see him on Monday.  
Mark nearly fell out of bed in anticipation, his hand stinging from the charades of the night before. He nearly ripped off his closet door and pulled out a yellow shirt and another black vest. More black pants and he slammed the door shut. He tossed off his old clothes in assorted directions and assembled his work-clothes, nearly forgetting his brace and phone in the rush. Kitchen, real food down his throat, out the door. Excitedly, he jumped in his car and turned it on, Ash booting up and speaking. The eye-spider scrambled to catch up before it was left behind, taking it’s place on Mark’s shoulder.  
‘Good morning, Mark Fischbach. You seem to be in a splendid mood today.’ Ash pointed out.  
“And good morning to you, my artificial friend,” Mark returned, “To Kelju if you would please!”  
‘Certainly, Mark. Today is October, 19, 4015 and the time is 9:47 AM. We will arrive at Kelju Tech at 10:04 AM.’  
Mark nodded, and sat back to enjoy the ride to his workplace. His happy demeanor quickly vanished as he thought more about the fact that he was going to see Sean. He hadn’t seen him in under 2000 years, and he had no idea how their first real conversation in forever was going to go. The ways the conversation could go played out in his head and he felt a feeling of fear well up in his chest. There could be tears, or just quiet conversations, or maybe Mark would fix whatever Sean needed to be fixed and the man would ramble on about everything he was going to tell him. Or maybe they would argue. That was his least favourite option. Arguing with his best friends was not something he wanted to do.  
He sat up and the fear washed over him as the car pulled into Kelju Tech’s parking lot. He got up and glanced around, noticing a new car. Diamond shaped, black exterior with a giant fan on the front to pull it forward. Sean’s car.  
Mark took a few deep breaths and walked towards the large, brick building, his eye-spider following close behind. It climbed up onto his shoulder when they walked in, and Mark noticed a mass of people who were waiting for Silas, who was running around with Kent trying to fill out paperwork. Silas glanced up and spotted Mark, hurrying over to him.  
He spoke in a hurried voice, “The guy you are fixing parts for is in your office, I’m sorry I can’t introduce you two myself, but his name is Jackson William. He’s got a neat little spider thing like you have there.”  
So it was really Sean, “Thanks anyway Silas, I’ll leave you and Kent to do what you have to do.” They parted ways and Mark slowly approached his office door. His heart pounded in his chest and ears, and a rush of adrenaline and fear shot through his veins. He passed under the large, mechanical arch, and soon his hands were on his thick, metal, office door. “Deep breaths, Mark. Deep breaths.” He turned the large handle, like that on a vault, and slammed into the door to open it.  
He came face to face with three colours, vibrant blue, pale peach, and glowing yellow. A breath passed through his lips and he didn’t move, and the person he was staring at couldn’t either. Mark swallowed, his throat tight and he could feel his body shaking from fear. He opened his mouth, finally, and spoke. “Hi.” A small laugh left the other individual as Mark shut the large door. He looked at him, “The entire room is sound proof and absorbing, so it’s hidden from everyone else, pretty much.” Why did he tell him that?  
The other nodded, “Gotcha. It’s a nice place you have here. Your sittin’ room is a tad bit dusty, but I guess you only get a small amount of a lot of work?” The man walked around the room, his white boots kicking up dust and throwing it around the air.  
“It’s pretty good, but it’s a little repetitive with all of the minor things I get for major mechanical issues. Last week I had three arms that needed to be fixed, but only because they weren’t being properly taken care of.” Mark sighed, “All the people here only live for the aesthetics of this world.”  
The man laughed and stopped at his private work station. He turned around, “Mark.”  
Mark looked up at him, slowly walking over to the Irishman, “Sean.”  
“Oh, good god where do I even begin…” He muttered, taking a seat in a stool. Sean ran his fingers through his dull, green hair.  
Something turned in Mark, and he rebuked a little too harshly with, “Well you could tell me why I haven’t seen you for 1,917 years.”  
In the dim light of his workspace, Mark saw Sean’s face flush, “Man, please don’t start with that.”  
“Why not, Sean?” His voice sounded harsh.  
Sean’s eyebrows furrowed, “Because I don’t wan’ta fuckin’ talk about it! It’s too complicated to explain right now, Ma--”  
“You’re literally supposed to be here all week, don’t tell me you don’t have time! All clients are required to be present when their machines and assorted things are being repaired!” His voice dripped with venom, and it bit Sean hard.  
The Irishman stood up, “Well at least I went through th’ trouble to look for you! What did you do? Fuckin’ hid from all of society, that’s what! Hid from the war and hid from the people!”  
“How do you know that!? God, just… Just nevermind! Was I supposed to find you!? Because I recall in, oh what year, 2098 you said to never look for you. And so I listened to your request.”  
Sean glared at him, “You wouldn’t understand, Mark. It’s something very different than what yer used to.”  
“I can’t understand if you don’t tell me!” Mark threw his hands in the air and walked towards his large workstation.  
“Don’t you fuckin’ turn your back to me! I’m talking to you!”  
Mark spun around and noticed the light on his electronic eye was red, “I can do whatever the fuck I want, Sean. It’s my office and I set the goddamn rules.”  
Sean froze, his jaw clenched and his hands twitching in white-knuckled fists at his sides. His exposed wings twitched. Through grit teeth, he said, “Say my name like that again, I fuckin’ dare ye.”  
Mark cocked his head to one side. “Sean.”  
Jack ran at him, his hands raised as if he was going to hit Mark. He put his arms up as the man neared, waiting for the blows to come to his arms. The air around them tensed, but after a while, Mark noticed that there was nothing attacking him, and he looked behind his arms to see Sean simply standing there, his hands tightly wrapped in his own green hair and breathing heavily. Mark placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up, their eyes connecting. “Mark, ’m sorry I lashed out at you.”  
“I started the fight in the first place, no need to apologize. Look, I think we both need to calm and sit down.” Mark said softly, and with a nod from Sean he led him over to the sitting area. The man took a seat on a couch while Mark sat down in a dusty chair. The light over Sean’s eye was a soft purple colour, and he stared at the ground.  
Mark moved the round, glass coffee table that sat in the middle of everything and pulled his chair closer to his friend. He waited until Sean was ready to speak, and listened.  
“Has it really been so long since we’ve seen each other? Over 1,500 years.” He laughed, “How did we even make it that far? That’s beyond me, but that’s not the point. Mark, I’m… ’m real sorry that I didn’t come back. I think I said I’d be back soon, but I guess I lied, ahah. Seems to be something I do a lot recently. Lie.”  
Mark leaned over and smiled at him, “Doesn’t make me think any less of you. I’ve had to do it quite a bit as well.”  
Sean laughed and sat back, his legs crossed, “You haven’t heard the things that’ve come out of my mouth in the last few thousand years.” Mark’s shoulders visibly tensed, and Sean glanced over, “Something I said?”  
“A little, but my wings are just cramping up from being closed all the time. Gotten a bit stiff and refuse to close sometimes,” He replied, and continued, “You know, the thought of you coming back was the only thing that kept me going.”  
“Did it really? Didn’t think I had that kind of effect.” Sean closed his eyes his face aimed at the ceiling. The light was a darker purple.  
“Yeah, even with my wings restrained and the weight of all this new world weighing on me, the fact that you said you’d come back and tell me everything that happened just kept me going. Especially after that goddamn war...” He muttered, and Sean’s whole body froze.  
“Mark, just one request. Please never mention the 200 year war.” His voice shook and his expression was twisted. Mark simply nodded, and earned a curious look from his friend. “I’m serious, Mark.”  
“No, I completely understand. I’d ask why, but you’ll let me know if you’re ever ready. That one wasn’t pretty,” Mark ran his fingers through his hair, and laughed quietly.  
An unsettled sigh escaped Sean’s nose and he spoke again, “Well, you’re not getting paid to sit around all day. Let’s have you start working on my eye, that’s what needs to be fixed today.”  
Mark nodded and stood up, extending his hand to Sean. The Irishman looked up at him and grabbed it, letting the larger man pull him from his seat. Mark let go of Sean’s hand and walked over to his AI station and asked Sean to sit on the table. “I’ll gather my equipment, and we’ll start.”  
“Isn’t this where you repair robots and shit like that?” Sean asked and Mark nodded.  
“Yes, but it’s the cleanest part of the room, not to mention the brightest, and I don’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours.  
Sean laughed and reached up to touch the side of his face. “Not so pretty anymore, Mark.”  
Mark’s face twisted in confusion and he approached the man when his things were gathered. In the light he could see that Sean’s face was slightly distorted, a small patch of healed burns littering the left side of his face and a large scar ran down the right side. Mark figured that was why he had the eye, but the man interrupted his thoughts.  
“My eye is perfectly fine, but before everything in the 3000’s, they recruited me an’ forced me to get this… Eye.” He looked down, a sigh escaping his lips. Mark hated to see him like that, but he kept his spirits high and spoke.  
“I think it’s a fair deal cool, other than the fused to your skull bit.” He jumped up on the table next to him and turned him towards the light and himself. The lense was shattered from the escapades of Saturday and yesterday, as well as many small electronic pieces dangling off of the edges. Wires hung from the side of Sean’s head and Mark carefully started getting to work, being as gentle as he could with his friend’s head. “Can I ask you a question?”  
“Hm?”  
Mark turned his head to the left slightly to pop out the shattered lense and the light for a few moments, before getting the replacements. “I was on the way to work Friday and there was a sudden kidnapping, some mother’s child was stolen right from beside her and according to one description, the kidnapper looked like you.” Mark attached a wire back into Sean’s head and the man cringed, “So I just want to know what you were going to do with that child before I stopped you and such.”  
Sean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Mark replaced the light on his eye, “What’re ye talkin’ about? I honestly remember being jumped by someone on Friday morning and waking up Saturday evening in a dumpster.” As Mark reattached another wire, he could tell by the look in Sean’s eyes that he was truly and ultimately confused. “Oh, jeez, Mark did I really do something cruel like that to someone? Especially a child? Are you sure it was me?”  
Mark nodded, “I chased after and the person wore exactly what you are right now and had the exact same wings that you do.” Sean’s face flushed of all colour, and he kept silent as Mark continued to work on his eye.

~ViraLayton


	4. Silas Kjellberg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To make a very long story short, way before the war, people found me, and they tested on me, lit on fire, the whole nine yards. This was after I saw you last. I used to have great, Perfect wings, remember?” He sighed, “So they treated me like an animal, and later I found out they were Abnormals, just like me, and then when the war happened and I was alive, I wanted to get out. So to convince me, they gave me a choice.”  
> Mark listened, and heard the shaking in his voice. “Be a caged bird for the rest of my life, or get drafted, the eye, and trained as an assassin. And they controlled me with the eye and zapped me and tortured me every time I took it off. Only they could take it off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished chapters 4 and 5 in the same day, ahha. Merry Halloween nerds.  
> Also if you love the eye-spiders, clap your hands. //VIOLENTLY CLAPS/
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Violence, Mark and Jack being stupid, Jack explaining shit again, attempted murder, and kidnapping :D

Too quiet.  
Mark’s hands were carefully resting on the sides of Sean’s face, watching the man carefully as his hands worked on the electronic eye, carefully rewiring things. Mark replaced the golden metal on the outside, rewired the electrics of the inside, and even made everything look visually appealing. If it was going to be stuck to Sean’s face forever, he wanted it to look nice. They were quiet for a good 20 minutes, the uncomfortable silence getting to Mark and he spoke, “Hey, Sean, can I ask a question?”  
Sean jumped, and the fire from the little torch Mark was using flicked against his head, though he didn’t seem to notice. Sean’s eyes turned to him, “Yeah Mark?”  
“What were you going to tell me the day you disappeared?” His hands grabbed for a red wire and went to re-attach it to Sean’s head.  
“Don’t plug that one back in. Hell, feel free to take it off entirely.” He muttered, and Mark nodded as he began to talk again, “I was goin’ to tell you everything we needed to know, about the wings, the longevity of our lives. Just assorted, dumb things like that.”  
The wire now sat on the table next to Sean, and Mark jumped off to grab himself a rag to wipe his sweaty hands on. He glanced at him, and the man climbed off the table as well. “Is it too late to tell me now? There’s still a lot of things I don’t know.”  
Sean shrugged and fixed his tattered jacket, “Dunno, what do ye need t’know?”  
Mark stood still for a moment, thinking. What did he want to know? Why were they there, why did they just suddenly show up one day, what reason was it for? So he asked, “Why?”  
Without any further questioning, Sean responded quickly, “There was a test done around the time we were born, so many ages ago, that was on how long science could make humans last. How long they could live. So picking five infants from around the world in each country, they injected something into us when we were young, not really knowing what it was going to do to our lives. 980 infants and children injected later, and they began conducting their experiment.  
“You and I jus’ so happened be ones picked for the test, and we never noticed, it just never kicked in until we were in our 20’s. Which is why we still look so young and handsome. It makes us stop physically aging at about 25. It freezes something in us that makes our bodies keep changing and growing. So we’ll look like this forever, I guess. Which, is a little disheartening.  
“The wings are a severe side effect, a common one at that. Out of everyone that goes to the bazaar, I’m pretty sure that 260 of us have wings. Some just glow, some developed extra appendages like tails and junk, some even have horns and small extra, unnecessary parts.” Sean’s mouth twisted in distain, the Irishman leaning against Mark’s workspace. Mark watched his friend, making sure he was alright. “They’re an accidental development, and they don’t show up until something in us mutates at about 80. For freezing change, getting sudden, different severe mutations makes it a little interesting.”  
“Why are yours different than mine?” Mark asked, referring to the wings.  
Another shrug, “It’s based of personality, I s’pose. Dunno, just random chance. Like you have your perfect wings and I have my unbalanced ones.” Mark went to say something, but Sean interrupted him, “Don’t get started. That’s what they’re called. Yours are called Perfect, the leathery one on my right, if there’s two of the nasty things, are called Imperfect, and the set like mine are called Unbalanced.”  
Mark looked a little confused, “When did you figure that out?” Sean was silent, and the larger man figured it was something from the war that he didn’t want to talk about. “Hey, I have an idea.”  
Sean looked up at him, “Yeah?”  
“You could ride back with me to my house and tell me the rest of what you know, because I obviously want to know more. And since I’m done with your eye, I can go home if I want.” Mark suggested with a smile, and Sean’s face fell, the emotion of his words only showing in his eyes.  
“As… as much as I’d love to, Mark, I can’t.” He headed towards the door, but Mark caught his arm, he didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes and the thought in his head said Why not? “I have personal issues that I need to deal with. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”  
Sean shook him off and in Mark's silence, slipped silently towards the door. His tattered jacket swirling behind him and making him look oddly whimsical. He grabbed the door, and out of desperation, Mark yelled, "Jack wait!"  
Sean froze, his hand still on the door and his eyes on his hands, "There is no more Jack." And with that he was out the door and gone. Mark's mouth hung open, his body shaking. He started to run after the man, and after he left his his office, he was already gone.  
When he went home, Mark felt more empty now than he ever did in the last thousand years or so. His chest felt like it was going to collapse on itself and he simply sat on his leather couch, staring at the large screen if his television. He memorized the gears that adorned the bottom corners, thinking that they would never work as real machinery as he tried to, yet again, get his mind off of Sean. He stared at the ceiling, tracing the wooden grain with his eyes. His thought always wandered back to the Irishman.  
His chest tightened. He was supposed to work on an arm, leg, and torso from Sean for the rest of the week, but from the looks of it, he looked perfectly fine except for his eye. What could possibly need to be fixed. He shook his head and leaned forward, tapping his fingers on his coffee table, He played with the latches of the trunk-shaped block and thought more, but his thoughts were interrupted by his eye-spider staring at him, curious. It played it’s only sound clip of ‘I spied her,’ and Mark noticed that it was really broken-sounding. Mark laughed quietly and moved the books, candles, and lanterns that were scattered on the table out of it’s way. “The rain messed you up, didn’t it?”  
An ‘I’ was the only noise Mark got before a fuse in it blew, sending sparks everywhere and silencing the little robotic creature. He sighed and lifted the spider into his hands, “Another thing I have to fix, I guess.” The robot jumped in his hands, the points on its metal legs stabbing into his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind or notice. “At least I have you to talk to. Sean has the other one, he called it Sam. Maybe I should call you Tim.”  
The spider made a nodding motion and it was settled; his name was Tim. He walked to his office area and set Tim down on his computer, and turned it on. He desperately needed a distraction from today, and through his computer he searched for a game. Any good game, anything to take his mind off of the day. And one strange game in particular caught his eye. Of all things, he started up RollerCoaster Tycoon, the absolute original one. Tim stood by his keyboard and watched him play it for a good few hours. Though, as he was about to win on Whispering Cliffs, the music and the noise lulled him to sleep in his chair.  
He woke up at about 3:50 AM and heard vigorous clicking from the computer in front of him. Tim was propped around the mouse, moving its body around with every motion of the game. Mark looked at the bright screen and saw that the little video eye-spider had managed to keep the park running and actually gaining money for once. He stretched and his spine popped, the cramps and stiffness of sleeping in a chair getting to him. Tim looked at him, it’s singular eye staring at him and making excited whirring noises. Mark laughed quietly, remembering why he programmed a learning feature into all of his robots. He gently tapped the metal exterior of the robot and got up to find food. 4 AM munchies are a bitch to deal with.  
When he stood up, however, the first thing he saw was a deep maroon light just under his eye level. It scared the living shit out of him and he stepped back, bumping into his grungy desk. The unfinished edge cut his skin slightly. From the light he made out that it was a person, who was reaching for their belt, and before Mark could think an aether gun was aimed right between his eyes, the energy inside slowly charging and lighting up the room. Mark's eyes widened and he stared at the man. Before he could call out his name, his gun fully charged and the light over his eye a violent shade of purple. Mark held his hands up in a manner of surrender, and he whispered, "Calm down." He kept his voice as smooth as possible.  
The other man didn't move an inch, but spoke quietly, "Couch, now." Mark simply nodded and slowly walked, the only noise besides his footsteps and his heartbeat being little Tim and his clicking. Mark stood next to the couch and the man stood in front of him, his gun unwavering. Light started to flit through his window. He didn't think it had been that long, but his eyes returned to the ball of aether at his forehead. He felt his pulse slowly rising and he locked eyes with the man. “Take it off.” His voice shook.  
Mark’s face twisted in confusion and he said in a hushed voice, “Take what off?”  
“Th’ thing on my eye. Take it off. Now.” The light flickered between violent purple to light green. Mark simply nodded and stood up, reaching over the man’s gun and to the electrics around his eye. He touched it, his fingers brushing against the man’s rough skin, and ripped the entire eye off in a single piece, wires and all. The aether gun ceased and sputtered out, the only light now from the window and his computer.  
“Sean, what the hell was that about?” Mark asked calmly, his heart still pounding as the man collapsed on his couch. He gestured for the eye-piece and Mark handed it to him, only to have it smashed in his hands. Sean’s emotions fell from his face as he stared at Mark. “It’s a reason why I didn’t want to find you sooner. From fightin’ in that goddamn war.”  
Mark simply stood to the side awkwardly, the tension between them rising. Mark stretched and looked at his friend, “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. I’m gonna go get some sleep in my real bed.” With that, he showed Tim how to save his game and left the robot be, going to his room and falling asleep.  
His alarm woke him up, jarring him from his sleep and actually startling him for a second. He sat up and turned the device off before swapping out his clothes. He stumbled to his bathroom, stepping carefully around the broken glass from his mirror. He forgot he needed to clean that up. He splashed his face with water and almost knocked the cup of feathers over. catching it just before it toppled off of the sink.  
With a sigh, Mark walked into the rest of his home and saw Sean pacing around the room. He remembered last night and how he nearly killed him over seemingly nothing, but even when he didn’t answer when he asked about it, he didn’t want to push his friend. A thousand years could do wonders to their memories, and there was a lot to share. Mark cleared his throat and clearly startled Sean, the Irishman turning around and staring at him. A ring of metal surrounded his right eye from where his eyepiece had been.  
“Din’t think you’d be up,” He muttered and stared at the floor, “I have to be there the same time you had t’ be, so I just figured I’d ride with you.”  
“I’d be happy to give you a ride.” Mark said and walked to his large fridge, getting something to drink before he left.  
Sean cleared his throat, “S-Sorry about last night. Usually I have to break in, but you don’t lock your door, and I saw you in your chair and I just couldn’t do it this time and--”  
Mark took a quick drink and held up his hands for Sean to stop, “Hey, hey slow down. Break in? Do what? Sean, what are you trying to tell me?”  
Something climbed out of Sean’s jacket and onto his shoulder, Sam, the audio eye-spider. It made excited noises when it noticed Mark was there, but regained it’s demeanor. Sean laughed quietly and spoke, “I’m not exactly safe to talk about it, but I should tell you.”  
Mark heard clicking and soon Tim was perched on his shoulder, watching them. “Is it better to talk while in the car? Ash won’t tell a soul.”  
Sean’s face twisted with confusion, but he shrugged, “I guess so.”  
And with that they left, Mark making sure he locked his door for once and they both clambered into the car. Sensor, start, Ash asking where to take them. They were off and soon, at about halfway there Sean spoke.  
“There’s actually nothing else for you to repair, Mark. Not from me. No arm, no leg, no torso. Only the eye, and, well, we saw how that worked out. Broke it anyway.” Sean murmured, glancing at Mark, “In fact I was only s’pposed to come in one day this week. There’s going to be some bad shit going down as soon as you walk in the door today.”  
He nearly slammed on the breaks, but simply turned to look him in the eye. “What are you talking about?”  
The Irishman took a deep breath and continued, “When I was drafted into that stupid fuckin’ war, they figured out that I was a… ‘Special being.’ That I was this way and they used me to their advantage. We’re nearly unkillable, y’know. And they call all of us as a whole Abnormals, us with wings Harpys.”  
“Aren’t harpys humans with wings for arms?” Mark asked after a moment.  
Sean nodded and sat back, “Yeah, but they didn’t know what else to call us I s’ppose. Perfect Harpy, you. Imperfect Harpy. Unbalanced Harpy, myself. You can guess what one is which. We live for a long time, we are hard to kill, and I’ve seen that myself, and I had the potential to do something for them in their eyes.”  
Mark turned his eyes to the solar road, and he and Sean were both about to speak when the car pulled itself over and a message popped up on the console screen, ‘Incoming message from Kelju Tech, from, Silas Kjellberg. Message reads: Mark, please call in sick today, something’s not right and strange people want you’  
Mark and Sean exchanged a worried look after the AI spoke, and the pink-haired man spoke, “Call Silas Kjellberg at Kelju Tech.” The screen flashed to a calling screen, and after a few rings it picked up.  
_“Kelju Tech, Silas Kjellberg speaking. How may I help you?”_  
Mark coughed harshly, looking to his friend to see if it was convincing enough. He spoke after a nod, “Hey, Silas, it’s Mark.”  
Silas’ voice shook, _“Oh hey Mark! What’s up?”_  
Another cough, “I think I’m gonna have to call in sick today, probably got sick from standing out in the rain on Sunday.”  
_“That’s fine, Mark, take it easy today. Your client hasn’t come in yet, so I’ll tell him you’re out if he shows up.”_  
“Alright, thanks Silas. Take it easy.” A click sounded and a dial tone played through the car, chilling Mark.  
Sean threw his head into his hands, “God, I hope they don’t kill him.”  
“Who?” Mark whispered as they sat on the side of the road.  
“To make a very long story short, way before the war, people found me, and they tested on me, lit on fire, the whole nine yards. This was after I saw you last. I used to have great, Perfect wings, remember?” He sighed, “So they treated me like an animal, and later I found out they were Abnormals, just like me, and then when the war happened and I was alive, I wanted to get out. So to convince me, they gave me a choice.”  
Mark listened, and heard the shaking in his voice. “Be a caged bird for the rest of my life, or get drafted, the eye, and trained as an assassin. And they controlled me with the eye and zapped me and tortured me every time I took it off. Only they could take it off.”  
Mark thought back to the video of Sean picking up the eye-spiders, the eye-piece missing but the wires dangling off of his head pulled through his memories.  
“Green was normal or panic, blue bravery, red anger, yellow embarrassment, and dark purple was forced intent to murder.” He scratched at the scar on the side of his head and winced. “And now they can’t control me. But if they find us, then we’re not gonna have a fun time.”  
Mark was quiet, and he looked over to Sean. He turned away as their eyes connected, and his hands rested on the steering wheel. He tapped of the console screen, and Ash readout ‘Manual mode, on.’  
Sean sat up and looked at Mark, “What the hell are you doing?”  
“We’re gonna kick some ass.”  
Sean’s voice cracked as he yelled, “Are you fucking insane, Mark!? These people are exactly like we are, we can’t just go in guns a’blazin’ and make it out alive! They don’t exactly die either!” He grabbed Mark by the shoulders and stared him in the eyes, his blue ones flicking back and forth to figure out which eye to stare in.  
Mark kept his face completely serious, “We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”  
“Yes, that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do, Mark!” Sean threw his hands up and flopped back into his seat. “Are you gonna drive your car in through the front door, grab Silas, and back out as fast as possible!? Is that what this is all about, just fuckin’ Silas!?”  
Mark laughed, and said, “Yes.”  
Sean’s fingers gripped his seat and squinted so he could see, and Mark simply ducked behind the steering wheel as the car drove over 120 miles per hour towards the glass front door of Kelju tech. Mark was so glad that it was glass, and he finally made contact with it, stopping as fast as he could. The car skidded to one side and simply sat there, surrounded by a large group of people, masked, in all black, Victorian garb with shiny guns. Sean slumped in his seat and Mark stood up on his, smiling, and glad that the car had no roof.  
“Hello!”  
“Mark!?” A panicked voice screamed from behind the counter, and with no turning around, Mark knew it was Silas.  
He looked around at everyone and clenched his hands into fists. Wings, tails, and antlers, glows, shadows, and other things connected to some of the ten people standing in the room. The room itself was a mess, the coffee tables everywhere, the couches and chairs full of holes, and now everything was covered in glass and metal from the doorframe. “Silas, I’d like you to join me today for a little game.” His voice was unwavering, despite how terrified he was on the inside.  
Silas’ footsteps echoed slowly from behind him and the blonde man stood next to his vehicle. “Wh-What might that be?”  
“It’s called ‘Fucking Run.’”  
With that, shots from guns of all sorts rained down on the three of them, and Mark grabbed his boss by the arms and pulled him into his vehicle, hastily tossing him as Sean as he threw himself down. He floored it in reverse as quick as he could, the shots echoing off of his car as he drove away, bullets and aether rays bouncing off of the metal exterior. After driving for a while, Silas sat up, his expression in true horror as he looked behind them, causing the other two to glance back. Like a pack of the winged guardians of Valhalla, the ten people who were in the lobby were after them.  
Mark pressed harder on the gas, quickly going down the road so fast that the solar sensors on the road couldn’t keep up with them. Sean climbed into the back, after maneuvering around Silas apologetically, and pulled out his aether gun from his belt. The gun itself looked like it would shoot bubbles, even though it was painted a brown-gold colour. A large, glass cavity held what looked like the stars and space inside of it, with a large muzzle like on a blunderbuss to the front. A wire wrapped around the entire thing to charge it.  
The black figures loomed closer and Sean started up the gun, the light bouncing around and reflecting off of the metal. Shots ricocheted off of the car, and occasionally some would go through the metal. Fully charged, Mark watched from the rearview mirror as Sean aimed the gun at those flying, and watched the little rings of energy fly off of the gun’s aether ball. Normally aether would instantly make whatever it touched disappear from existence, but something felt wrong when all it did was stun the Harpys and other Abnormals following them. Sean turned to look at him, his face devoid of colour. Mark glanced to Silas, who was cowering in his seat and muttering to himself in a different language. He turned and took a violent left, spinning off the road and into the forest and mechanical oxygen tanks, hoping to shake some off of the Abnormals.  
He lost the ones running after them, which left four flying ones still, including the one that was knocked down. Mark turned to Silas, “Sir, I’m sorry you’re in this situation, but I need you to drive forward for me. My Auto-Pilot will just lead us back to the road.”  
Silas’ eyebrows were turned upwards, his mouth half open and his breath was heavy, “Drive!?” Mark nodded and got ready to switch seats with him. Silas nodded and after some adjusting, he was driving with Mark in the passenger seat, reaching into his glove box. Sean continued to fire aether energy at the people following them, doing little to phase them. Mark pulled out a pair of gloves with wiring on the inside and after slipping them on, climbed into the back seat with Sean. He stood on the seat as his gloves charged.  
“What the hell are you doing Mark!?” Sean yelled, charging down his gun after his failed attempts.  
Mark laughed, “Flying is weak to Electricity.” He charged the energy on the ends of his Tesla Gloves, waiting for them to get closer.  
Sean screamed, “That doesn’t work in the real world, dumbass!”  
All Mark did was smile and say, “You don’t know that.”  
He threw his hand towards a Harpy with black wings, the blue electricity jumping through the air and making it feel like they were in a lightning storm. It struck the person, and went straight to the wings, enveloping them in a blue haze of light before they dropped to the ground. Sean and Mark exchanged a glance before they both burst out laughing. Another precisely aimed arm thrust sent a larger person with blue and yellow wings spiraling down straight to the ground.  
Sean stood up on the seat as well and pulled his own gloves on, the electricity charging quickly with Mark’s gloves on next to it. He threw another jolt at a third, a small figure with long orange and grey Imperfect wings. That time you could nearly see the energy flowing through their veins, and after those three of the four were down, Mark turned to Silas, “Stop the car and probably hide.”  
Silas nervously nodded and did just that, jumping out and immediately running to hide in the roots of a large, coiled tree. Mark and Sean jumped out of the car and ran through the trees. Sean yelled, his wings flying out behind him, “Should we go up in the air ourselves to find the last one?”  
“Maybe, but I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If we’re grounded, then we won’t plummet out of the air at an alarming speed.” He stopped to take a few deep breaths, and Sean stopped in front of him. Mark pulled off his vest and tore the Magnesium brace off and let his wings rip through the fabric of his shirt. His chest heaved and he shrugged, “Fuck it.”  
Sean nodded and the two extended their wings, the massive appendages moving up and down, lifting them off the ground, above the treetops, and into the air. They turned and looked for a fourth person, but found nothing but a Zeppelin flying overhead. Mark could feel his heart pounding against his lungs, and the nervousness of it all was making him shake.  
“Mark, something doesn’t feel right…” Sean muttered and moved closer to the older man. Mark could see the man’s body shaking, nervous and scared.  
“Sean, it’s going to be alright. Probably.” He ran his fingers through his hair and watched as Sam crawled out of Sean’s jacket, perching itself on his shoulder.  
Sean whispered, “Sam, do you hear anything?”  
They were silent for a moment, to let the green eye-spider use it’s mic to pick up extra noise. Mark could hear Sean breathing heavily, nervously.  
‘Yes!’  
From nearly nowhere, a large figure plowed into Sean, grabbing him around the waist and around the neck. Large, beefy hands gripped the tiny Irishman with such force that Mark thought they would break his bones. Sam leapt from Sean’s shoulder to Mark’s as they watched, eyes wide and mouths open. Sean struggled before the hand around his neck tightened, stopping any noises he was making and replacing them with attempts at breathing.  
The large figure muttered to Mark, “Don’t even move.” The deep, male voice reverberated in Mark’s body, and he stared at Sean. Sean’s eyes were wide, teary, and full of an emotion he couldn’t quite place. The man’s hand gripped his neck tighter and Mark’s body froze. He had seen this before, but it was a memory he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was a dream, maybe it was just deja vu. He took a deep breath before he even thought about doing something. His eyes looked to Sam, and with a clearing of his voice, the eye-spider jumped.  
Sam threw smoke from his insides and Mark threw electricity, but nothing hit. He felt a weight in his stomach and he used his massive wings to clear away the smoke, “S-Sean?”  
There was no one there. Mark was alone in the sky. His wings stopped moving, and he plummeted to the ground, not bothering to catch himself. He landed on the ground, making a large, Mark shaped crater in the earth. And everything faded to black.

~ViraLayton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since a few people have asked:  
> Perfect wings are like angel or bird wings  
> Imperfect wings are like demon or dragon wings  
> Unbalanced wings are one Perfect wing and one Imperfect one. Kinda like a half angel/half demon thing.
> 
> Also I am a terrible person :D


	5. Nathan Stronglove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He kept silent as the blue-haired woman lead the way. They eventually made it to a narrow opening and she climbed out, then extended her hand down towards him. Her hands had odd spiral patterns of light coming out of them, and Mark didn’t seem to notice as he took her hand. She pulled him out and Mark looked around.  
> A cool breeze blew over them, and Mark took a deep breath. Trees, smoke, dirt, and rain was in the air. He walked forward, his barefeet feeling every piece of earth that was beneath him. The real moon shone down on them, and the reality of where they were hit him. They weren’t in the city, in the dull, cold, fake town underground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUESS WHO'S A TERRIBLE PERSON??  
> Me!
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Character Death, Weird memory links, new characters, and SADNESS!

It’s black.  
He can’t see a single thing, but he feels he’s laying down on something smooth. He’d guess it’s tiled floor, and he stands up. He takes a step forward, and the noise from his step sends a few rings of white light from under his foot across the empty blackness. Like a visual echo. It cascades over a cage, over a bowl, a human figure, and bounces around some walls. He walks over to the cage, the steps making the light frequent, and he can see everything better.  
He crouches next to the cage and feels his wings touch the ground. He calls out, “Hello?” A figure in the cage jumps, sending out rings of green light from around his body. But it’s not the man he’s afraid of, it’s what’s walking towards him.  
Large rings of purple flow over the room as a man walks closer and crouches in front of the cage. “What’s his status, doctor?”  
The man speaks, but it’s not his own words that leave his mouth, “His mind is deteriorating, sir. He needs to have a stimuli other than the sounds of us and darkness. Plus, the war has really kicked up a notch.”  
The other man spoke, his purple words illuminating the room, “Alright, I’ll give you a choice, filthy Harpy. I’ll let you out, and you can fight and be free. But there’s a condition. You see the eye the doctor has there? We give you one of those, a permanent one, to control you. We train you to fight, to kill, to snipe, and to murder. And we set you free.”  
The man in the cage spoke, his voice shaky, “And then what?”  
The tiny green lines were swept away by the purple laughter, “You’re free under one final condition, after training.”  
“W-What is it?” The man could feel the desperation in his voice.  
The purple man stood up, “You said a friend of yours is like you as well, a friend I believe you have a particular… Loving interest in?”  
The green man hissed, “What about Mark!?”  
“Calm it McLoughlin or you’ll never leave. The condition is that when you find him again,” He began to walk away, his footsteps washing over the floor, “You kill him.”  
The purple left after a door slammed shut, and the green man began to cry, loudly, painfully, the sharp gasps and hitches in his breath fully lighting up the room. And it hurt the onlooker to watch.  
A scream of the name Mark woke him from the dream, and the man opened his eyes to find Silas crouched over him and shaking him, “Mark wake the hell up!” Mark groaned and Silas fell backwards, a relieved look sweeping over him. The older man shot up and immediately cried out in pain, collapsing over onto his legs and holding his sides. He felt like he broke more than a few bones. Silas yelled out, “Hey, don’t move! You fell a few hundred feet out of the air, y-you need to not move! I put your brace and vest in your car, but please don’t move.”  
Mark groaned and looked at Silas, and could see his glasses were broken. He threw them off of his face and sighed, feeling the pain in his sides rush over him like a typhoon. He looked at Silas, “How… How bad is my back?”  
Silas cringed at the question and muttered, “If you had a camera, I could show you. It’s not exactly something you want to describe.”  
Mark laughed quietly, “It’s a good thing I can’t feel my back then, isn’t it?”  
Silas nodded and laughed as well, “You’re pretty mangled. Do you want me to help you up?”  
“Yeah, thanks Silas.” The blonde man stood in front of him and took both of Mark’s hands, pulling him up as carefully as he could, his arms under Mark’s and slowly but surely, they lifted him to his feet. They were silent for a while before Silas spoke again.  
“I never thought you’d have a secret like that, with the wings and stuff. My parents got it from every ancestor that came before them and I just thought it was a myth.” Silas rambled, and Mark, though in pain, listened. “Have you lived for a long time?”  
Mark muttered, “So far it’s 2,026 years.”  
Silas’ eyes widened, a child-like wonder filling his face, “That’s pretty cool, but i-it’s probably lonely.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t think I could handle that pain, leaving everything behind. A-And yet, with all of that knowledge, that age you listen to me? I’m so much more inexperienced next to you!”  
Mark shook his head, “No, not really. You’ve got more knowledge of what you love than I could ever imagine. I look up to you Silas, because you’re a better man than I am.” Silas smiled, a wide bright smile, that made Mark remember, and remark, “You know your last name, Kjellberg? I knew the guy who you say you inherited your happiness from; Felix. He was just as awesome a person as you are.”  
Silas’ eyes widened, “Really!?” Mark nodded, and Silas smile widened impossibly, “Mark, you’re such a good person. Thank you for working with me, and thank you for being my friend.” He held out his hand for Mark to shake, and as he took it, something made a noise.  
Silas’ smile dropped and he collapsed to his knees and face first onto the ground. Mark shrieked and fell backwards, making every broken bone in his body hurt, but nothing hurt more than this. In the back of Silas’ head was a large arrow, right at the base of his skull. He was dead as soon as it hit him. A wave of fear and anger crashed over Mark; Silas laid dead before him, not bleeding, not breathing, and no emotion on his face. It wasn’t the first time has seen someone die, but seeing it again made his heart nearly stop.  
Mark looked up and saw an Abnormal with large ram horns sticking out from under their black hood, and an old-fashioned bow in their hands. He felt adrenaline pool in his stomach, and he returned to his feet and after the person. He watched them fumble for their arrows, stringing the bow and dropping it a few times before, at about 20 feet away, they aimed and fired it. Time felt really slow as it soared towards Mark, and he shut his eyes, ready for it to impact. Instead, it bounced off of his forehead and he plowed right into the Abnormal.  
He ripped the bow from their hands and hit them over the head with it, cutting their head with the string. He threw it and put his hands on the sides of their face. He screamed, “He did nothing wrong! He was doing his job, he was being a friend! Why did you have to fucking kill him!? He did NOTHING!”  
The ram Abnormal looked mortified, and Mark felt the Tesla gloves charging as he gripped the sides of their face, Electricity welled in his fingertips, in the person’s skin, and he let it run through the them. In a fit of anger, he dug the points of the gloves into them, and the electricity went wild. They screamed, they cried, and they wriggled underneath the man, desperately trying to get away from him. Mark screamed at him again, though he couldn’t understand his own words. Eventually, the person stopped moving, though they were still breathing. It would’ve killed a normal human. A shaky breath left Mark’s lips and he sat back, now aware he was straddling the person’s stomach.  
He stood up and grabbed them by the horns. He dragged them back to Silas, past him, and threw them into the back of his car. He walked over to Silas and carefully picked him up, carrying him like a bride. Tears fell from his face onto the man’s body, and he set him in the passenger seat. He removed the arrow from his neck and slowly got himself into the car.  
He barely noticed that his fingers were covered in blood when he tapped the console screen to power Ash back on. “Ash. Hospital.” His voice was harsh and raspy.  
‘To Adverant City Commonwealth hospital. Approximate time, 30 minutes.’ The robotic voice said, then spoke after, ‘Sean McLoughlin is alive, Mark Fischbach.’  
Mark leaned back and let the car drive him out of the woods, his eyes tight shut as he gripped his sides, “How do you know, Ash?”  
‘You installed my certain model of car with a high-tech sensor and mostly harmless X-Ray system, which alerts the driver to civilians and other humans around, as well as with a radar system and hacking software.’ The AI elaborated, ‘Sean McLoughlin is currently housed in a Zeppelin just over Adverant City with two broken wings and a broken nose.’  
Mark glanced to the console and saw a video feed, of Sean in a cage, curled up and quiet. The room was identical to the one Mark saw while he was out, and he was surprised to find that the dream he had while he was blacked out was accurate. He sadly glanced over to Silas. Ash spoke again, ‘I have stored the brain wave frequency of Silas Kjellberg in my system, though I’m not sure what you will want it for.’  
Mark huffed, “Thanks Jarvis.”  
‘Whatever you need, Mr. Stark. Currently, you have three broken ribs, one nearly puncturing a lung, a damaged nerve system on your upper back and both wings broken in three separate places each. It’s good your Abnormal species heals fast’ Mark sure was glad he gave all of his AI a sense of humor, that’s for sure.  
“What about the person behind me?”  
‘Nathan Sharp, Irish. Heavy electrical damage to the Cerebral Cortex and several other areas of the brain. His memories have been wiped clean and he has the knowledge level of a 15 year old boy right now.’  
“It’s only a little weird how you just know that.” Mark muttered, but shook his head. Ash pulled into the city and around the narrow curves next to the river. A sharp turn right and down a narrow alleyway lead them to the Adverant City hospital, and into the emergency parking. As carefully as he could, Mark slung Nathan over his shoulder and Silas under his arm and trudged towards the emergency wing. Sam, who had somehow survived the fall, followed after with Tim from seemingly out of nowhere.  
He walked in the door and after a few sharp gasps sounded, something made him collapse, his vision going black once more, though he was still fully conscious. He heard panicked noises from Sam and the tapping of their tiny legs echoed monstrously in his head, like a migraine. Doctors and nurses ran over, pulling Nathan and Silas off of him, and he felt himself being lifted up into a wheelchair. He blinked, his vision still missing and he swore he felt hands on his back, where he couldn’t feel anything. Words were thrown around him, but nothing registered. His mouth felt like it didn’t work anymore. He could hear the eye-spiders chasing after them, and it was what his mind concentrated on before his consciousness fell.  
He knew he was unconscious this time, and he saw all white. This time he could see the room, a white room with a bed, a table, a cage, a bowl. He walked to the cage again and black lines of sound echoed from his feet. So this is what happened earlier. An unconscious dream, though this one felt worse. He sat next to the cage, and looked at the green man. He was hugging his knees to his chest and was in all white. In fact all of him was pure white.  
A door opened and a man walked in, the purple of his footsteps washing over them all. He spoke, “Doctor Sharp.”  
He nodded and spoke in a voice that wasn’t his own, “Sir Baker. He has come to a decision, but has questions.”  
“But of course, Sharp. Let him out.” The purple man said.  
He moved without wanting to and opened the cage. The green man slowly climbed out, large wings extending behind him. Perfect wings, and he swore he could see the green in them. “I just have one question, Sir Baker.” His green echoed over the room, and he continued, “Why do I have to kill Mark?”  
Purple lines filled the room, “You can have no connections to your past, including friends. How you two crossed paths is beyond me, but you have to get rid of him. We placed him in your regimen just for this.”  
The green man’s lines went to a violent red, “Do you know how hard it is to kill one of us!? It’s impossible! You should know! Our skin is hard as diamond but soft to the touch, we’re smart, we’re fast, we heal fast, and he’s pretty much exactly like me!”  
Purple grumbles filled the room, “Doctor Sharp, do what I informed you of earlier.”  
He involuntarily nodded and turned around, his footsteps showing a large, razor edged blade. He picked it up and turned to the green and purple men. The green man’s face twisted in fear, and his right wing was extended. Out of his own will, he cut the man’s perfectly feathered wing off. Blood few out of a main artery, spurting out and covering the room in splotches of red. The green man collapsed and screamed in agony, the colour lavender flowing around the room as he screamed, he bled, and eventually he passed out from blood loss.  
And Mark woke up screaming, with nurses and doctors holding him down, and a frenzied panic filled the man before he was pinned down, doctors holding syringes over him of some antipsychotic medicine, and Mark held his hands out, “Hey!” They stared at him, astounded that he was suddenly somehow calm. He felt the tense air and spoke again, “I had a… Bad dream or something, don’t worry, please. For all intents and purposes, I’m fine.”  
The doctor called the nurses out and Mark and the doctor were the only people left in the room. He looked around, seeing the walls painted an ugly colour of green with everything inside silver and blue. The doctor spoke, “Mr. Fischbach, I want to guess?”  
He looked at her, and noticed that her hair was bright blue. Her hands were covered by skin-tight blue latex gloves, but he could see some odd spiral marks pushing through the material. Mark recognized her, “Miss Morgan Want?”  
She nodded, “You’re pretty beat up, but I figure your car already told you? It faxed us your x-rays and a full diagnosis of your condition.” She tapped a thin, brown box in her hands and it displayed a hologram of his body, “Three broken ribs, severe nerve damage, and your wings are snapped in three places. Fortunately for you, they make me work in the Abnormals section. I got the other doctors to properly set your wings and we can’t do much about your ribs. They’re mostly in place, as you can see.  
“As well, you can still move your wings and can feel that they’re there, but you have the nerves of the upper part of your back besides that so messed up that you probably won’t have any feeling there. And might I ask what the hell you were doing to get yourself and the other two so messed up!?” He felt the sting in her voice.  
He quietly explained everything that happened in as best of detail he could, and included the two dreams he had while completely blacked out. She listened carefully and occasionally wrote something down on her clipboard.   
“I see, that’s very unfortunate, Mark, and I’m sorry that had to happen. And as for your dreams, maybe a psychic link was established with you, so that someone’s important memories weren’t lost. Sometimes with heavy brain damage, Abnormals are capable of that.” She muttered.  
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s all my fault…”  
“Oh god, no it’s not. Everyone always says it’s their fault and it never is. You need some fresh air.” Morgan said and stood up. She extended her hand towards Mark and carefully helped him out of his hospital bed. She guided Mark out of the room, up several flights of stairs, and to a sign that read Roof, with an upwards arrow, and Abnormals, with a arrow to the left. She opened the door and the two of them walked out. A few steps out onto the roof and Mark felt like he had inhaled a gallon of smoke, if that was even possible. He stood there and looked towards Morgan, but she was already walking towards another set of strange, almost floting stairs. Curious, Mark followed after.  
“Where are we going?” He asked and slowly followed her up the makeshift wooden stairs.  
She looked at him and stopped, her back pressed to a piece of the LCD sky, and Mark noticed that the one she was leaning against wasn’t lit up. “We’re going to get some real air.” The voxel gave way and it pulled back and slid to the side. “They’ve rewired the lights so that us Abnormals that know what the real world is like can go outside.” She ducked under some wires and he followed her, holding his sides.  
They were in a dimly lit tunnel, a light from Morgan’s hands leading their way. The tunnel was lined with bricks, barely tall enough for Mark to stand up fully, and the floor and ceiling were made out of dirt. He kept silent as the blue-haired woman lead the way. They eventually made it to a narrow opening and she climbed out, then extended her hand down towards him. Her hands had odd spiral patterns of light coming out of them, and Mark didn’t seem to notice as he took her hand. She pulled him out and Mark looked around.  
A cool breeze blew over them, and Mark took a deep breath. Trees, smoke, dirt, and rain was in the air. He walked forward, his barefeet feeling every piece of earth that was beneath him. The real moon shone down on them, and the reality of where they were hit him. They weren’t in the city, in the dull, cold, fake town underground. They were in real nature. In fact, they were on a battlefield, with felled trees, overrun with grass and flora. Insects, animals, and real life filled Mark’s senses and he turned to Morgan to see a content look on her face. He didn’t speak and began to slowly wander around in the reality of the world.  
The breeze moved the grass around him, autumn leaves spiraling around him and soaring into the sky. He stopped again and stared at the stars, and for once they were the real stars. The real bright lights, not clouded by light pollution. No more aether mines, no more human life on the surface. After the war, the entire surface of the planet was in ruins from the years and years of torment. And so many billions of people dead, so much war torn earth. He remembered when they moved everyone underground, made everyone adopt this industrial style, made everyone like them.  
Steps behind him brought his thought back to the silent earth, and Morgan stood next to him with her hands in her pockets, “It’s something isn’t it? I wish we could live out here, all of the sane Abnormals.”  
Mark looked at her, “Sane?”  
She nodded, “I mean actually sane, not just ideologically similar to us. Everyone has different ideals, but I mean those who are clinically sane. Some of us have gone a little insane after several thousand years. We remember it up here, and we can remember how to live up here again.”  
Mark thought it over, and nodded, “I wish I could bring Sean here.”  
“Sean?”  
Mark tucked his hands into his pants pockets, now aware that he only had a bandage on his chest. He looked at Morgan, “He’s a good friend of mine, he’s a Harpy like me as well. He’s probably better know as Jack though. Though he said that ‘there is no more Jack.’ And I lost him again today.”  
She put a glowing hand on his shoulder. Her hand was freezing cold, but it was oddly comforting. “You have to go get him Mark.”  
He laughed, “If only it was that easy, Miss Morgan.” He stared at the stars again, watching a shooting star fly by and he subconsciously made a wish, “He’s on a zeppelin, and with my wings busted I can’t exactly fly up onto it.”  
She turned and started to walk back towards the tunnel that lead back underground, “You’re an inventor, Mark, and I’ve known you for a few years. You’ll figure something out. That’s what you do.”  
And with that, Mark was the only person standing on the outside of the planet, as far as he knew. The fact that there could be someone else out there with him excited and terrified him, but he didn’t voice it. He sat down and let the grass swirl around him, now becoming aware that whatever they gave him while he was passed out was wearing off and his sides began to hurt. He shook his head and carefully laid back, his wings slowly extending to each side. All 30 feet of the aching appendages laid out flat on each side of him. He stared at the sky, tracing the patterns of the constellations, memorizing the planet locations, looking at the galaxy in the sky above him.  
It fascinated to him to no end that he was one of the only people alive memorizing the stars, even laying down in real wild grass. After many minutes of drinking in the nature, he stood up, carefully brushing the dirt off of his body and walked back towards the tunnel that lead back to his new world. The industrial world, hidden underground. To the place called Adverant City.  
Hours passed, and Mark sat in his hospital room when Morgan came back in, a young man at her arm, shaking. He looked at the two of them and she spoke calmly, “This is the young man you came in with that was alive. He has no idea who he is, though he knows how to speak. He wanted you to tell him who he is, and I’ll adjust everything accordingly.”  
Mark looked up at the man, and noted that he looked quite young to be an Abnormal. He had large black ram horns spiraling out of his head and red hair. His skin was pale and covered in freckles, and his eyes were a dull yellow colour. As well as that, he had what looked like claws on his fingers instead of normal nails. He walked over to Mark and sat in the chair next to his bed. A thought popped into his head, the dream he had of a doctor with the last name Sharp, and if he remembered right this young man’s real last name was Sharp. If it was true, he didn’t want to let the man know that. And even if it wasn’t, he didn’t feel like it should be his name. Maybe he was the man he shared the ‘psychic link’ with.  
Mark looked into his yellow eyes, “What do you want to know?”  
He jumped and stared at him, “M-My name and a little… about me?”  
“Your name,” Mark started, “Is Nathan Garnett Stronglove. You’re currently 2015 years old. You’re a being called an Abnormal, but that’s perfectly normal. I found you a few years ago at an Abnormal bazaar, and you were scared and I decided to take care of you. You lost your memories then, and a few months ago you ran away. I found you today, but again you’ve lost your memories.” From the corner of his eye he watched Morgan angrily adjust things on her digital box-tablet. He bit his lip at the story he just fabricated and realized what he had just done.  
Nathan nodded and looked at him, “Are you l-like my dad?”  
“You never called me that; you always called me Mark.”  
He nodded once more and scratched at his horns, “Is that your name?”  
“Mark Edward Fischbach, yes. I’m 2026 years old, and a subcategory of Abnormal called Harpy.” He explained.  
Nathan seemed to understand and looked to Morgan, “Dr. Want? Th-That’s all I needed t’ know, I think I can walk back to my room.”  
Morgan smiled at him, and both of them watched him leave the room. As the door shut, Morgan ran over to Mark and swatted him on the back of the head, “What the hell were you thinking!? Why did you lie to him!?”  
“I have no idea! Maybe because if you saw that scared and wondering look in his eyes like I did you’ve done the same thing!” Mark said, exasperated. He rubbed the back of his head and Morgan handed him the tablet box.  
“No, I wouldn’t. But since you told him you were his _guardian_ I have to have you fill out his paperwork. His birthday is March 1st. Swipe to flip between his new and old paperwork.” She huffed and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her, but not before Sam and Tim slipped in and climbed up onto the bed to watch Mark. He held the box in his hands and after staring blankly at the door for a while, looked down at it.  
“Name, Stronglove, Nathan Garnett. March 1st, 2000. 2015 years old…” Mark muttered everything about him to himself, and after using the original papers for reference, got all of the boy’s paperwork done. The time read 11:45 PM, almost the 21st. He sat back carefully as there was a knock at his door. “Yes?”  
It opened and Nathan slipped in, shutting the door and locking it behind him. Mark noticed the hallway outside was empty and dark and he ran over to him. He grabbed Mark’s arm and said with an airy voice, “M-Mark, somethin’s inside the hospital an’ it’s trying to get all the… the Abnormals.”  
Mark looked him over and saw a few scratches to his face and arms, but he looked fine. A slam resounded against the door and a voice growled something that neither of the men understood. Mark nodded and got up, quickly finding his clothes and shoes and slipped them on. He rushed to the window and gestured for Nathan to come over. “Give me your hand.”  
Nathan nodded and Mark threw the window open. He leaned out and Nathan climbed up next to him, Sam and Tim on his shoulders. Mark shouted, “Ash!”  
Another slam pounded against the door and the hinges started to give. Nathan moved closer to Mark out of fear and shut his eyes. A honking noise sounded below them and Mark knew it was his car. The door burst open, but Mark never looked at what was behind him. He jumped from the window and landed roughly in his seat, with Nathan, Sam, and Tim landing clumsily in the back seat. Mark yelled, “Ash, roof up and home as fast as possible!”  
‘Raising roof. Current time is 11:52 PM on Tuesday, October 20th, 4015. Estimated arrival time, 12:17 AM on Wednesday October 21st, 4015.’  
“Just fucking drive!” Mark screamed. The wheels of the car spun and Ash pulled away from the hospital as fast as it could, the roof slowly coming up over them.  
Nathan sat up and Ash told another readout, ‘Mark Fischbach, you are healing fast. Ribs are almost repaired and your wings are healing quick as well. The nerves of your back will probably never repair.’  
Mark sighed, “Thanks for telling me something I already knew, Ashy-boy.”  
Nathan leaned forward from the backseat, “Is this Ash?”  
‘Good morning, Nathan Stronglove. I am Mark Fischbach’s Auto-Pilot, named Ash as a pet name. I am the entirety of this car and can control every aspect of it unless I am turned off by Mark or a trusted companion. As well as that, Mark, there is a large monster that is an Abnormal behind us. I will go faster.’  
Mark turned around and looked out the back window to see a colossal figure chasing after them, and it almost looked like a Titan, but was a bit too small. Mark shook his head and Nathan climbed into the front passenger seat of the car. Mark turned to face forward and watched the roads, “Ash, if you can, please lose it before we get home. I want my house in one piece.”  
‘Certainly.’  
Ash swerved into an alleyway and around several buildings, before it came to a complete stop, even shutting off the engine. Nathan was breathing heavily and gripped the seat for comfort. Mark listened, and could hear the vibrations of the person walking around the roads. The footsteps stopped near the alley they had pulled into, but after a few short minutes the Abnormal walked away. The two let out a sigh of relief as Ash drove them back to Mark’s house. Everyone was silent the entire time.  
Ash parked itself and Mark got out, as well as Nathan, Sam, and Tim. They walked inside, and Sam and Tim rushed over to Mark’s computer to play a game. Mark let out a heavy sigh and walked over to his couch, throwing himself into the hard leather and groaning loudly at the pain. He muttered into the material, “Make yourself comfortable. Hell, go sleep in my room, it’s the only other room in here. I’m just gonna think about my life for a while.”  
He heard Nathan walking in the direction of his room and the two eye-spiders booting up Amnesia, the Dark Descent. Mark rubbed his lower back and groaned again. From his pants pocket, he felt for his phone, and didn’t recall putting it in there. He shrugged and turned it on regardless, starting up the pseudo-internet and after finding some old websites did some heavy reading into the darkness of the night.  
As Mark continued reading, the night slowly faded away and his alarm clock sounded. He heard a calamity of noises and sat up, watching Nathan come out of his room, holding the alarm clock in his hands, “How do I stop it?” Mark made a swiping motion, and the man mimicked him, his hand running through the hologram’s light and shutting it off. “Th-Thanks Mark. ’m going to go back to sleep.”  
Mark nodded, “Not like I have to go to work today.” He looked down sadly as the younger man walked out of the room. He returned to his phone, trying to take his mind off of everything.

~ViraLayton


	6. Sean McLoughlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sat there for a while and looked up, seeing the LCD sky slowly turning to night, and the moon rising over the treetops. If he squinted, he could almost make the lines between each voxel disappear. The grey, soot filled clouds loomed overhead as a zeppelin flew past. Maybe it was the one Sean was on, or maybe it was just a private one, as most were. It pushed through the thick clouds, they rolling off of the blue and yellow stripes of the outside.  
> Mark watched it in confusion, wasn’t the one that flew by Sean and himself blue and yellow? He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the pink and black strands trying to remember, but he just couldn’t. He kicked the ground in anger before deciding that he should go inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I gave up on writing these two chapters at a time. But that means I can be a terrible person more frequently :D
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Bread, Lying, More Eye-spiders, sadness, Stanley Parable jokes, and some dangerous Abnormals.

He’s tired.  
Mark sat at his kitchen island, his eyes tracing over the surface he was leaning on. It was built out of an old engine, he guessed. Lightbulbs in thin wire frames dangled over his head, and he looked down. He stared at the mug in his hands and watched the steam roll off of it. Nathan sat across from him with a glass of water. He played with the glass cup and sighed before looking at Mark, “Hey, uhm, can I ask you a question?”  
Mark looked up at him, “Yes?” He took a sip of his coffee and listened.  
“Were you lying when you told me about myself at the hospital?”   
Mark nearly spit out his coffee and looked up at him, “I beg your pardon?”  
“I heard Dr. Want yellin’ at you about something and I just wondered if you were lying or not.” He muttered and took a large gulp of his water.  
Mark sighed and looked him in the eye, “I wasn’t lying, Nathan. I’m your caretaker, and if there’s anything I want most in this world besides finding an old friend of mine is to take care of you.” It was hard to lie to the boy, but he couldn’t bear to tell the boy the truth, or what he thought the truth was.  
Nathan spoke again, “Also I have a question.” The older man looked up to him as Nathan got up and lifted up the back of his shirt, the skin exposed. Mark’s eyebrows furrowed as he noticed four large scars on the back of the boy - around his shoulder blades in perfect symmetry - and almost thought that they were raising up a little too far from his back. He noticed as well that his ribs were clearly visible and his torso was extremely pale and thin, but he didn’t say anything about it.  
Mark shrugged and took another swig of his coffee, “I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like those before.” He finished off his coffee and tossed the mug carefully into the sink. “Must’ve happened when you were gone.”  
Nathan nodded and seemed content with the answer. “Alright, thanks a-anyway. I’m gonna go outside t’ get some fresh air. Thanks again.” He muttered and walked towards the door. Mark watched him slowly approach the door, twist the knob, disappear into the outside. Mark leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, subconsciously listening to the noises of the eye-spiders playing Amnesia. His eyes traced the white ceiling and the caged lights before he pulled himself away from the island. His hands ran over the metal surface and he approached his couch, setting himself on the leather surface and felt a small wave of pain wash over him.  
Cringing slightly, he pushed all of his papers off of the surface of a large trunk. The object served as a coffee table, but inside was all sorts of mechanical goodies for him to tinker with. From inside he pulled out a small glass orb that split in half, the hinge on the inside and a small lock on the outside, as well as some wires, gears, electronics, and things he couldn’t name but knew what they did. He pulled some tools out of the box as well, and after some thought as to what he was going to do, he started to tinker with everything.  
Wire connected to electrical currents, lights strung together inside of the mass of electrics, and after a lot of adjusting and several hours of his time, Mark placed the electronics inside of the globe, continuously adjusting the wiring and making sure everything fit together. He closed everything inside of the glass orb, latching a small piece that sat on the front of the sphere. Wires attached to motors almost stuck out of small holes in the sides, and he held the creation in his hands. He laughed quietly at the creature, another eye-spider. Like he needed another one of them. He tugged a black wire out of one of the holes and stood up.  
The took the little robot over to his computer and set it down, taking the wire and attaching it to a little hole in his computer. He carefully set Sam and Tim to the side paused their game. He went to the desktop and opened several programs. Mark took a seat and began to type away on the keyboard. The program he had made it easy to program a basic intelligent machine, however basic wasn’t what he wanted.  
With a few clicks he loaded a premade learning command set and a basic knowledge base of English. He set it to react to to voice frequencies and length of speaking, and remembered he had added a mic and speaker to this one, like on Sam, as well as a small camera. He mused that he would have to add one to Tim, so the little automaton could actually hear and not have to watch his mouth constantly. He continued typing, setting the ability to walk to be the same as Sam and Tim, as well as set the style of speech it had to be like Sam’s; in audio snippets. He loaded some visuals for it to learn, as well as an eye-spider compatibility code and a few new things. After only a few minutes he was nearly done.  
A bubble popped up in the bottom corner of his computer, and of all things it was a message from Ash. It was a file titled “SK.mwf,” and in a sting of curiosity, he saved it and responded with a ‘thanks.’ He opened the file, it opening in a program called MindFrequency. It measured thought patterns and brainwaves and mannerisms, and it was what he had installed into Ash.  
It was the mind pattern of Silas, and Mark’s heart fell as he remembered that Silas was gone. He paused for a moment. His boss and good friend for a few years was gone, and in his haste he never bothered to ask Morgan about him, or what they had done with him. He ran his fingers through his hair and left it there, tangled in the pink strands. With one hand he scrolled through the information, which he somehow understood. With a quick few mouse clicks, he imported it into the new eye-spider’s programming and finished off all the loose ends of the code. It would give the little robot some of Silas’ mannerisms, just in spider form.  
He unplugged the small automaton and set it next to a curious Sam and Tim. He tapped the top a few times and it turned on, a gold light in the front part of the orb illuminating the inside of it. It was on, and it turned around, curious of it’s new surroundings. Mark smiled and it turned to him, with a curious audio clip, ‘Name?’  
“I’m Mark.” He said and leaned back in his seat. What name was he even going to give this one? He thought for a moment, and a dumb but great idea popped into his head, “Your name is Stephano.”  
The gold light on the inside of it’s body flickered as it pulled an audio clip, ‘Stephano!’  
“Wrong one.” Mark told it, and it flipped through its database of noises to find an accurate sound. The name Stephano played over and over until Mark pointed one out, of a rough and bad french accented clip that announced the name. “Good job. I’ll be right back.”  
Mark got up and walked back to the case of electronics and pulled out a few things, including a small black ball of mesh fabric, a microphone/speaker set, and some gold and black paint. He heard Sam say its name and Tim’s, and for a moment Stephano and Sam exchanged some very odd audio clips, but it sent all three into laughing audio clips and movement. Mark shook his head and listened in before walking back over to them.  
He picked up Tim, turning him off and inserting the microphone and speaker, removing all his old, fried electrics. After some canoodling with the wires, he had the small gadgets installed and placed inside the black mesh. He turned the robot on and they stared at him, almost wondering.  
“I don’t want to plug you into my computer, so just sync programming information for audio and video stuff with the other two. I’m going to go take a nap.” He told them before he got back up, “I’ll paint you later Stephano.” The three made noises of approval and Mark smiled. He trudged to his room and flopped down onto the soft material of his bed. His ribs made pain flood through his body and he groaned angrily.  
He was glad he had distracted himself for a while, but the feeling of loneliness from having Silas dead and Sean missing flooded into his mind. He sighed and rolled over onto his back, carefully adjusting his broken wings under him. Why did he let all of that smoke loose? It was the perfect cover for an escape route, and he let Sean go missing again. He tried to recall the person who took him, and all he remembered was he was large. Large wings in blue, yellow, and red. Large hands gripping around Sean’s throat and waist. Large body slamming into the Irishman at an alarming speed.  
He closed his eyes and rested a hand on his forehead. He was cold, he noticed, but didn’t think anything of it. He needed to get to Sean, he needed to find his friend. He felt empty without his friend near him, because surprisingly after several thousand years he got lonely. He heard the front door open and figured it was Nathan. He sighed and decided to not think the situation over anymore; he tried to fall asleep.  
He did sleep, and a dream came to him, but while he had it, it faded in and out of his mind. He vaguely remembered seeing someone with brown and blonde hair holding a gun and firing, someone being yelled at for removing something, and perhaps he knew the man, but everything in his dreams were in black and white, except for the sound. The man was green, and that was all he knew.  
When he woke up, his head was in more pain than his usual headache. Migraine. He held his head with one hand and lifted himself off of the bed. He stood on his legs, his body still half asleep and he fell over into his bedside stand. He hissed as everything fell to the floor, including a glass that he had forgotten behind the lamp a few weeks ago. His alarm clock was still in one piece, surprisingly, and he noted that it was Wednesday the 21st.  
His comatose body walked him into his living room where he saw Nathan asleep on the couch and all three eye-spiders huddled in his arms. He noticed that Stephano was painted with a thin layer of Gold and black paint with a small spot unpainted on the front for light to shine through. Mark smiled; that was exactly how he wanted it.  
He stumbled to his kitchen and opened a cabinet, looking for anything to satisfy his needs. He really wanted a grilled-cheese sandwich at the moment, but he didn’t remember if he had everything for one. He shook his head and settled on just bread. A plain ol’ piece of plain ass bread. Bread. He shook his head and pulled a piece out of the back, then jumped up to sit on his cast-iron countertop and ate it. He found it oddly relaxing, for whatever reason he couldn’t figure it out. It was just him sitting on his counter eating. And it wasn’t even exciting, it was just bread.  
It was over quickly, and he leaned against the wall behind him. It was probably just the quietness of the night. He listened, and heard only the whirling of his computer and the quiet breathing of Nathan asleep on the couch. He smiled and crept over to his computer, opening up The Stanley Parable, and after he turned the volume down, began to quietly play it. He had gotten through a few of the endings before light flickered in through his windows once more, signaling that he had stayed up all night listening to Kevan Brighting’s voice.  
He got up from his seat and returned to his bedroom, going into the bathroom and vaguely noticing that all of the glass from before had been cleaned up, and he guessed that it was Nathan who had done it. He’d have to remember to thank him later. He picked up his alarm clock and shook it, the hologram displaying that it was the 22nd of October. He sighed and set it down, returning to the living room and walking out the back door past Nathan, and stood in his backyard. He wished he could look at his back, but what can you do? He reached behind him and tugged at the bandages on his back, off of his wings.  
Very slowly and very carefully, he extended them and winced as they popped back into place, and noticed that where they had broken, they were almost fully repaired. He knew that he healed fast, but this speed was almost absurd. He shook his head and his wings, noticing that a lot of his feathers had grown back. Why had he healed so fast? A shrug of his head made him remember that there was still someone missing in this picture. Sean.  
Was he well enough to fly? He didn’t think so, but what could he do besides wait? He felt antsy, and the thought that Sean was hurt and in someone else’s hands rubbed him the wrong way. He moved his wings in a downward motion, and pure white pain shot straight through his back, right to his chest and he fell straight to his knees. It was almost as if he had been struck by lightning with the way his body began to shake and shudder. He heard something break inside, like a mug shattering against the ground as Nathan ran out, the three eye-spiders close behind. Their words fell short of Mark’s ears, and his eyes shut as he fell forward. He landed hard in the grass before he blacked out again.  
This time, he saw everything in colour. It was a red room, filled with furniture of varying shades of blue and green. He moved slowly to a deep blue chair, the material fitting around him comfortably. He stared at a large wooden desk in the middle of the room, small purple knick knacks decorating the surface. He leaned forward to examine them, only to hear the door open and someone trudge over. He stood up and announced, “Sir, I came as fast as I could.”  
The man, dressed mostly in shades of purple and black gestured to the man, “Sit down, Sharp.”  
The man inside thought, pondered, wondered. I’m not Sharp, but I must be reliving this through his eyes. A memory stored inside of his body. Strange. He felt himself sit down, and listened to the large man.  
“Sharp, I assume you know why you are here. You’re a rare Abnormal, what with the two features you have. Quite contradictory, if I may say so. So here’s the deal. We cut off your wings and you’re free to go after they’ve healed.” The man’s voice boomed as he sat behind his desk.  
He felt himself stand straight up, “Cut off my wings!? But-But ye only do that t’ test subjects!” A sharp accent cut through his words, suddenly, with such a fearful viggor.  
“All of you are test subjects to me. I am your overlord and you all do as I say.” He laughed, spit flying out of his mouth and hitting his face. He snapped and the door flew open, almost comically, and three men walked in, though they were completely black and ambiguous as to who they were. He must have forgotten them. They grabbed him by the arms and flipped him onto his stomach. The third man stood over his back and pulled out a large blade, covered in blood. Just like the one used to cut off the green man’s wing. They swung down on the man and he shut his eyes tightly.  
“MARK!”  
Mark sat straight up, his heart pounding and his chest heavy. He looked and saw Nathan sitting next to him, his yellow eyes full of tears and panic. He frantically searched Mark’s eyes, confused and scared. He then lunged at him, hugging him tightly and scared, “A-Are you alright!? You were… were passed out and I’m too weak to move you, and I--”  
“Nathan, it’s alright. I’m fine, I’m awake, see?” Mark said, gently patting the other’s back. “I’m awake, I’m conscious, I’m not hurt.”  
Nathan nodded and pulled back, looking into his lap at his hands. “Was it stupid of me to worry?”  
“What? No, no it’s perfectly normal.” Mark said with a smile.  
Nathan stood up and walked back in the house, muttering to himself, “Unlike us.”  
Mark watched him walk away, a sigh escaping his lips. He stared at his knees, which were now stained green from the grass and he knew they were starting to bruise. He sat there for a while and looked up, seeing the LCD sky slowly turning to night, and the moon rising over the treetops. If he squinted, he could almost make the lines between each voxel disappear. The grey, soot filled clouds loomed overhead as a zeppelin flew past. Maybe it was the one Sean was on, or maybe it was just a private one, as most were. It pushed through the thick clouds, they rolling off of the blue and yellow stripes of the outside.  
Mark watched it in confusion, wasn’t the one that flew by Sean and himself blue and yellow? He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the pink and black strands trying to remember, but he just couldn’t. He kicked the ground in anger before deciding that he should go inside.  
Mark tried to fly again three days later, on the 25th. The days prior, he had gone out to Kelju Tech with Nathan to check the damage, and as soon as he got there, a feeling of dread and death washed over him, and they promptly left. It made Mark sick to his stomach. They went shopping at the bazaar, and left as quickly as possible when someone tried to start a fight with Nathan and the eye-spiders.  
But it was Sunday, and Mark wanted to find Sean as quickly as possible. The days were just drawn out boredom to him, and he couldn’t stand it. he stood on the roof of his small house this time, with Nathan and Stephano on the ground. Tim and Sam were both nestled comfortably in the pockets of his vest and Mark stared at the skydome. the wind gently ruffled his feathers and hair, the breeze smelling strongly of sulfur and coal. He cringed, but slowly spread his wings nonetheless. The feathers had mostly grown back at this point, the shade of them now a crimson red and black; darker than they were before. Much more intimidating, as Nathan had said to him. Mark relaxed and stared at the fake sun, wondering if he should even move at all from under the cold lights.  
“Mark? Are ye alright?” Nathan called up, the breeze ruffling his red hair. Mark nodded and figured that was as good a cue as any and closed his eyes. He felt the muscles in his wings contract and lift him upwards, and he braced himself for pain. But nothing came. He simply hovered in the air, his wings flapping gently and slowly. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down, seeing a large smile on Nathan’s face. He guided himself over to the younger man and got in front him, putting his arms under Nathan’s and lifting him up into the air with him. “Are you sure about this!?” He asked, clearly worried about him and clung to his arms.  
“You weigh like 90 pounds, I think I can handle it.” Mark laughed, and pulled himself into the air as high as he could, with Nathan clinging tightly to him. Above the clouds, above the people, and above the chaos, a good few hundred feet under the skydome still, but safe from the sounds of the industrial era. From his vest pocket, Sam crawled onto Mark’s shoulder and turned the speaker part of his appearance towards him.  
Ash’s voice came out through the speaker, ‘Mark, I see that you’re well enough to fly again. Try not to crash again like last time, you’re still very weak.’  
Mark’s face twisted in confusion, “How are you talking to me though Sam?” he asked.  
‘Trade secret, not spilling any beans here.’  
Mark rolled his eyes and spoke again, “Yes I can fly now. Can you tell me what the zeppelin that took Sean looks like?”  
‘It’s a zeppelin.’  
There was a moment of anger in that moment, and Mark replied, “I know that, Ash. I want a fucking description of it!”  
‘Well excuse me, princess. It’s a large blue and yellow striped exterior with a wood and steel frame hanging from underneath it.’ The voice crackled and popped through the speaker, ‘It’s also exactly 3,500 feet northwest of your current position and orientation.’  
“Thanks Ash. Now leave me alone please.” He said, and Sam clung to his jacket as Mark flew in the direction of the airship. Clouds slowly rose to meet the and graced over Mark’s wings and over Nathan’s back. Nathan laughed quietly and watched the sky fly by them, the sun slowly setting until they were covered in the darkness of the fake night. Through the clouds Mark could make out a shape, dimly lit up by the glowing sky. A Zeppelin, one that looked like it was striped in two shades. He slowly picked up his pace and only moments later, they were a few hundred feet away from the vehicle.  
Mark always knew that Zeppelins were large vehicles, but the size of this one was ridiculous. The whole ship was probably twice the normal size, at maybe 2000 feet long, and the cabin where everyone was held under the ship was three stories high. He slowly approached it, Nathan clinging tightly to him and watching the ship carefully. Mark sided up against the cabin, flying just underneath it and on his back, with his wings towards the earth. Stephano climbed out of Nathan’s pocket and up to him.  
“Stephano, I need you to find us an entrance. I’ll watch what you see through Tim’s viewer,” he whispered.  
The little glowing spider moves around on him as Mark moved himself to the side of the vessel. It jumped up onto a windowsill and through the tiny opening, disappearing . From his pocket Tim climbed up to Mark and turned around, displaying the view that Stephano had.  
Few people were inside, and the walls were decorated with a lavish and ugly yellow wallpaper. The carpet was dark red, and small caged pipe lights hung from the ceiling. Stephano was right next to a door, which looked like it opened with some sort of a keycard. The robot turned around and walked through the halls, passing people with ease and speed. No one seemed to notice the little glowing robot, and that made Mark a little grateful. It passed several sets of wooden doors and up two flights of stairs. The upper floor looked the same as the first, and Stephano slowly skittered across the carpeted floor. It came to a glass door that was open, outside on a small balcony. The area was empty, just the wind and the outside world.  
Mark nodded and Tim climbed back into his pocket. Mark silently moved them up to the third floor, quickly found the balcony where Stephano was. He landed and set Nathan down, stretching and moving his arms to work out all the kinks. Nathan looked at him, “What d’ we do now?”  
Mark whispered, “I have to find Sean. He’s a really good friend of mine, and he’s trapped here. He was kidnapped.” He reached into his pockets to slip a pair of gloves on; Tesla gloves. “You stay behind me, and I have to keep Sam and Tim on my shoulders. You try not to get caught by anyone.”  
Nathan nodded as they began to walk. The hall they were in was a few dozen feet long and had only three doors. They stepped down the hall as silently as they could, Mark’s wings nervously twitching against his back. Nathan was muttering things under his breath as they approached the first door. Mark began to charge his gloves and carefully put his hand on the knob. He took a deep breath and opened it, only to have a broom fall on top of him. It was a closet. It was even blatantly written on the door, but Mark must have missed that. He stepped in to look around, and Sam quietly played a small audio clip.  
‘OH, DID U GET THE BROOM CLOSET ENDING? THEB ROOM CLOSET ENDING WAS MY FAVRITE!1 XD ...I hope your friends find this concerning.’  
Mark couldn’t help but laugh as the voice of Kevan Brighting escaped the small robot. “Thanks Narrator.” He put the broom back before he shut the door. Once more, they walked towards the end of the hall. The two doors that they were passing now read ‘Baker’s Office’ and ‘Computer Lab.’ He turned the corner and Sam turned to him, playing quietly.  
‘Mark, Ash again. Sean McLoughlin is on the second floor in the middle room. Currently there are 20 people in the zeppelin, including you two. There are 9 Abnormals that you should watch out for, though I can’t get a clear signal on who they are through Stephano, or my own signal for that matter.’ The AI informed him through the speaker.  
“What about the other people on the vehicle?” Mark whispered,  
‘One is Sean McLoughlin, the others are all caged on the first and third floors. All the threatening Abnormals are on the second floor. The second floor has 11 rooms.’  
Mark nodded, though he knew Ash couldn’t see him. “Thanks for hacking into my robots, Ashy-boy.”  
‘No problem Markimoo.’ The AI replied and disconnected itself from Sam. Mark slowly walked down the hall, and saw four doors, each with a different sign hanging off of them. He and Nathan slowly approached the first one, the sign reading ‘Nathan Smith. Taken care of by Mouse and Sophia.’  
The door was fully wood, except for the narrow glass window in the middle. Inside he could see a dimly lit cell, with the outside window locked shut by a complex series of gears and switches. He shook his head and looked around, finally spotting a small figure in the corner. A smaller man with black hair sat in the corner, hugging his knees to his chest and a large set of antlers rubbing against the walls. The tips of them were broken off and he was covered in blood, scars, and bruises.  
Mark looked away and glanced in all the other doors for a brief moment. Most of the cell occupants were like the first man; beaten, battered, bruised, bleeding. He hated it, it twisted in the pit of his stomach. They approached the staircase and the two men heard voices coming from the floor underneath, and Mark and Nathan looked at each other. Stephano jumped from Nathan’s shoulder onto the stairs, slowly climbing down the spiral of steps. On Tim’s screen, he saw it turn towards a large group of nine individuals. Most, if not all of them, were missing some aspect of their Abnormality. A large man in the back of the group spoke, and sound played out of both Sam and Tim.  
“Empire of the Past, I have returned Sean McLoughlin to our humble home once more. After several hundred years of the war being over and being free, he has yet to accomplish his task. Someone tell me what his task was.” The loud voice boomed, and for some reason Mark thought of the colour purple.  
A small, squeaky voice piped up, large round ears turning towards the man, “His task was to kill Mark Fischbach, yes?”  
“Correct, Mouse. While Mark still lives, Sean McLoughlin soon won’t be as happy and lucky as his friend is right now. Tell me why, Claire.”  
A white glow flickered to the rhythm of a strong English accent, “We’re taking his Abnormalities away, aren’t we?”  
“Correct again. Now, even though our dearest Doctor Nathan Sharp isn’t here, there is no stopping us in tearing apart McLoughlin, is there?” A collective cheer resounded before Stephano returned to Mark and Nathan.  
Mark’s face was in a permanent state of fear, and he glanced to Nathan, who just seemed confused. He was watching down the stairs as the group walked to a different hallway. He looked at Mark, “That really felt unsettling. It felt really familiar for some reason.”  
Mark nodded, “Yeah, unsettling.”  
Nathan’s eyebrows twisted in confusion and he spoke again, “Is something bothering ye, Mark?” Mark let out a shaky breath and muttered a ‘No’ under his breath. “Th-Then let’s go get your friend and get the fuck outta here.” He started to walk down the stairs.  
Mark, however, saw this as a bad idea and reached out to grab him by the back of his dressy shirt, “Nathan wait!”  
The electricity from his Tesla gloves shot through the smaller man as soon as they touched his skin and he collapsed in pain, though no noises escaped his lips. Mark jumped and dragged him away from the staircase, powering off his gloves and shaking Nathan. He called his name out several times, but didn’t seem to notice as a strange blue fluid leaked out of his gloves and onto Nathan’s face.  
Only seconds later did Nathan’s eyes open, and the man bolted up, fearfully staring Mark in the eyes. “Nathan! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you again, are you alright?”  
Nathan backed up a step, “Mark… Fischbach?”  
Mark sighed, “Don’t tell me you lost your memories again…”  
“Not lost. Regained.”  
Mark quickly looked him in the eyes and his breath slowed, “I-I’m sorry?”  
“I gave you my memories… A-And just now you’ve given them back.” He said, a small smile pulling its way across his face. Mark’s hands fell from the man’s shoulders. “I remember. I was sent t’ kill you after McLoughlin failed so many times. I killed yer friend, and preemptively I gave you my memories so you could see McLoughlin suffer as you slowly died on the ground. So I would be free of my past. But no, Silas Kjellberg had to get in th’ way. And you lived.”  
Mark’s eyes widened, and Nathan continued, “You’re not my care taker, you’re not a friend o’ mine, you don’t even know me. You lied t’ me.” He stepped towards Mark the entire time and eventually they were against a wall, Mark slinking as far into it as he could. “My name isn’t Nathan Stronglove, though I appreciate the gesture. I’m Doctor Nathan Sharp.” He ran back towards the staircase, “And you’ve just stepped into the wrong neighborhood.” He ran down the stairs with the tails of his jacket dragging on the floor, “Sir Baker! I’ve returned with a special surprise!”  
“Nonono, this can’t happen!” He muttered, and hurried down the stairs after Nathan, “Please no!” He stood in the middle of the hallway and saw the back of Nathan’s jacket from around the corner, talking to a loud voice. He looked around, panicked and afraid, and saw a room labeled with bright green letters.  
‘McLOUGHLIN.’  
He ran at the door and flung it open. He slammed his back against it and sighed, feeling for a lock to keep it shut a little longer. He found one, then walked into the middle of the room.  
The room was completely black, nothing was visible unless someone made noise. As Mark had moved, pink ripples pooled around the room and over the materials. He made out a table, a cage, a bed, a bowl. The room he saw in Nathan’s memory links. He walked towards the cage and crouched down, his wingtips brushed against the ground and sent light rings of pink over everything. They graced over a figure in the cage and he whispered, “Hello?”  
The figure moved, sending light rings of dark green over everything. “H… H’llo?”  
Mark felt a nervous smile come across his face and he whispered again, “Sean, it’s me, Mark.” He heard Sean turn away.  
“You’re just Malikai mimicking Mark again...”  
Mark felt his heart sink, “No, Sean it’s really me. Give me your hand and I’ll prove it. Please, I just want to get you out of here.”  
Sam and Tim fidgeted on Mark’s shoulder, sending small rings of white across the room. He heard Sean move, the green showing that he was moving towards the section of the cage where Mark was. “It’s really you Mark?” He muttered. Mark saw his hand reaching out of the cage. He grabbed it and held it close to his face, feeling the tips of Sean’s fingers brush against his jaw.  
“I swear it’s me.”  
Sean’s grip on Mark’s hand doubled and he leaned forward, his head pressed against the bars of the cage. Mark reached in and set his hand on Sean’s shoulder. The man looked up at him, “Mark, what now?”  
Mark mimicked Sean and leaned his head against the bars, his head brushing against the other’s for a brief moment, “I get you out of here, and we pretend that these people never existed.”  
Sean shook his head, “It’s not goin’ t’ be that easy, dumbass.”  
“Well that’s why the first step is to get you the fuck out of here,” He retorted, and he watched a small smile break across Sean’s face as the door broke open and other people poured in.

~ViraLayton


	7. Nathan Sharp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He started to talk again, “I… I know this is weird, but I remember everythin’ of when I was with you and before. And… I don’t expect you t’ forgive me when I say I’m sorry I ratted you to Baker… But you’re th’ only person who’s been nice to me in several thousand years and I just feel like I can trust you...”  
> Nathan leaned back and looked over Mark. "It's th' best I-I can do." He sat there for several minutes before speaking again, staring at the ground, “I thought about it while they dragged you away from McLoughlin, err, Sean, and while they beat you over the head with the bat and while he asked you questions and I just…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look a new chapter. I was gonna put something else here, but whatever, I forgot it.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Graphic Depictions of violence, torture almost, explanations, and absolutely 100% no UNDERTALE references.

Mark flinched.  
He was in a plain white room, in a plain white chair, and unlike Sean’s room, it didn’t make everything white, because he could clearly see the three people in the room with him. One was Nathan, his face expressionless and his eyes empty. Another was the large man that Mark knew had kidnapped Sean, who introduced himself by the name of Ruby Baker. The last one was a tall, lanky, but muscular man, and Mark recognized him as Eoco Secra. Mark stared at the ground, at his feet.  
What had happened was all so foggy to Mark, but he remembered being with Sean, holding onto him through the bars of the cage. The door had opened and several people stormed in, ripping Mark away from the Irishman and sending the three eye-spiders off of him to hide with Sean. They had dragged him to this room and locked him down into the chair, which was bolted to the floor, and hit him over the head many,many times with a metal bat.  
He was surprised he was even still awake and hadn’t got massive brain trauma.  
Eoco was pulling his wings out behind him and Nathan kept nervously looking around the room. Ruby, or as the others called him, Sir Baker, approached Mark and dropped the baseball bat.  
He spoke, and the skin on his face jiggled, “Mark Fischbach. You’ve fallen right into a trap you knew was set for you. How odd.” Mark said nothing and the man kept talking, “I wonder how much you know about yourself. Let’s take a little quiz.” He picked up the baseball bat and pointed it at him, “Every wrong answer will get you a strike. Three strikes and you’re out.”  
“What does… That mean?” Mark asked, his vision blurry from loss of blood.  
“You’ll find out later. I’ll ask you 10 questions, and if you get most of them right, I’ll… Release you. Under some conditions, that is.” Baker let out a loud, boisterous guffaw and threw the bat behind him.  
“First question. What is the full name of the 3000’s war and why did it start?”  
Mark quietly responded with, “The 100 Years War of the Progressionalists, the Traditionalists, and the Industrialists. It started because...” He trailed off, feeling a large spike of pain in his lower ribs.  
“Tick tock, Fischbach.”  
“Because… The Progressionalists wanted flying cars and robots, and shiny future technology, the Traditionalists wanted it to be the way it was in the early 2000’s, and the Industrialists wanted a compromise of the two sides, the Industrial Future-past.” He gave them the information as fast as he could.  
Everyone was silent before Baker spoke up again, “Question two. Why are we Abnormals so different in diversity?” He gestured to his wings, Nathan’s horns, and Eoco’s nothing.  
Mark felt what little colour was in his face drain from it and thought. He knew they were injected with something, but he never got the time to ask Sean why. “It’s based… on the personality of the person?” He shut his eyes tightly and waited for an answer.  
His response was a metal bat to his shin, the force more than likely breaking the bone. His leg sent waves of pain through his body, making the beatings to his head pulsate and bleed all over again. He felt blood rise up into his throat.  
“Doctor Sharp, please explain.”  
He opened an eye and looked at Nathan, and his fuzzy mind almost thought that he looked terrified. “I assume you know that it’s something injected into you at a young age. It’s actually a mix of DNA from assorted animals and insects. Yours is a species of bird mixed with a basic cocktail of assorted regenerative, skin hardening, and other DNA that everyone gets. I have ram DNA, some have bioluminescent DNA, and some just have a mix of everything.”  
Mark tried desperately to understand, but he just couldn’t keep the information in his head. He could feel the strain in his body as he tried to stay conscious.  
Baker used the end of his bat to tip Mark’s head up and looked him in the eyes. “Question three. Why did the Industrialists win?”  
Mark grit his teeth, and through them he choked out, “Aether.”  
After a few moments, Sir Baker spoke again, “Question four. What colours are this zeppelin?”  
Mark felt his emotions drop out of his chest. He had flown towards it, but the mental trauma to his head had made everything so… Off. He closed his eyes as Baker took the bat back towards him. “Red... and black?” The air felt extremely tense.  
He felt the bat crash into his right arm and the breaking of his arm echoed through the entire room. The pain went straight to his leg, and though he tried to hold back his screams, he let a few noises escape through his nose and throat.  
“Two strikes Fischbach. One more and you’re out.” Baker laughed, joined in by Eoco and nervously by Nathan. “Question five.”  
Mark looked up at Baker, trying to listen to the question he had asked, but the words had escaped his ears. His vision was slowly going to black, and his ears felt like they were filled with fluid. He just simply stared at him as his lips flapped about, spitting everywhere and going on about the question. Mark felt his head being yanked up and the fierce grip on his hands caused by Eoco. His eyes, which had been closing, were pulled open and he was forced to watch. He saw Baker sigh and restart the question, but again, the noise fell flat from Mark’s ears.  
Baker grit his teeth and yelled something at Mark, which was along the lines of ‘Time’s up!’ and he raised the bat, ready to strike. He moved to the side slightly and swung. The metal struck him in the chest, and he felt the loud scream echo from his throat. He shook his head, making all the previous hits hurt even more than they already did. Heat surged in his chest, his arm, his leg, the breaks sending pain straight to his head and back. He struggled, in fear for his life, though Eoco had a good grip on his head and the chair had one on the rest of his body. He somehow managed to move his head in such a way that he could hear again.  
“That’s three strikes, Fischbach. The answer was Henderson.” He laughed, a deep, gurgling laugh that echoed through the entirety of the vessel. “That mean’s you’re out.”  
He coughed and almost swore there was blood in his throat. “Wh… What does that mean?”  
“It means you’re out for the count, Fischbach. Eoco, spread his wings and Nathan, ready your tool. Mark glanced over to Nathan to see the man nervously shifting his weight. He nodded and walked out of the rom in a hurry. Mark saw, out of the corner of his eye, Eoco grab a hold on his wings and pull them out to the side. He hardly felt it, however.  
Nathan ran back in, a set of blue latex gloves on his hands and a large cleaver in one. Razor sharp, speckled with blood that didn’t wash off. “Doctor Sharp here will cut off your wings, so you’ll be grounded. We can then throw you off of the ship to plummet to the earth and we won’t have to worry about you for a while. Unless you die, we are thousands of feet in the air, so it is entirely possible. Ready, Sharp?”  
Nathan jumped at the mention of his own name, “Y-Yessir.”  
“Good, begin whenever.”  
Mark shut his eyes tightly and heard the grip on his wings increase. Breaking a bone was one thing; give it a week and he as an Abnormal would be fine and dandy. But cutting them off? That could take months or even years. Or, he worried, it might never grow back.  
He heard the air cut, and heard not his wings being cut, but the sound of metal piercing skin and a loud, guttural scream. A split second later, two heavy objects collided with the ground and he slowly opened his eyes. He found Nathan desperately clawing at the shackles around his arms and ankles. Mark slumped forward and pulled his wings to him, listening to Nathan finally opening the locks and crying.  
He grabbed Mark’s hands and threw his good arm over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” He muttered, over and over to himself. Mark opened his mouth and tried to speak, but a rush of pain filled his body first as he was lifted up by Nathan. A cry of pain escaped his lips, and he saw the look on Nathan’s face. His face was pale, his eyebrows tightly pulled together and his eyes were full of tears. “I can’t watch it, I can’t stand it.”  
Mark would normally questioned this abnormal change in behavior, but his mind was too hazy for thoughts right now. Nathan dragged him out of the room, and Mark noticed that Ruby Baker’s body was laying on the ground, the large cleaver in his forehead and his chest moving slightly. He was alive, but Nathan had knocked him out? Why?  
His eyes shut, and he knew they were out in the hall. His body started to become numb with the amount of blood he had lost from his head, and he assumed that when his bones had been broken that other things in him had been as well. He forced his eyes back open and carefully turned his eyes to his arm. His forearm was covered in blood, with a small spike of white sticking out of it. Bone. He looked away before he saw anymore.  
Nathan continued to pull him until they reached a room with an unnamed door. They hurried in, Nathan carefully setting down Mark and locking the door. He turned on a light, and Mark recognized it as a Broom Closet. Nathan kneeled down in front of him with an open box, pulling out a small bottle of white pills. He shoved three into Mark’s mouth and began to mutter to him, “I-I changed my mind, and I don’t expect you t’ remember me sayin’ any of this t’ you, but I’ll fix you up…”  
He leaned Mark back; he felt a numbness slowly work its way over his body, probably from the pills Nathan shoved in his mouth. They worked awfully fast, but then again Nathan was a doctor. He’d obviously know the best option for him. He hardly felt it when Nathan slowly and tediously set his bones back into place, when he wrapped his injured body in bandages, when he tried his best to help in the cramped quarters of the closet.  
He started to talk again, “I… I know this is weird, but I remember everythin’ of when I was with you and before. And… I don’t expect you t’ forgive me when I say I’m sorry I ratted you to Baker… But you’re th’ only person who’s been nice to me in several thousand years and I just feel like I can trust you...”  
Nathan leaned back and looked over Mark. "It's th' best I-I can do." He sat there for several minutes before speaking again, staring at the ground, “I thought about it while they dragged you away from McLoughlin, err, Sean, and while they beat you over the head with the bat and while he asked you questions and I just… You were my only friend, and in 2000 years, th’ fact that you were nice to me, even though you probably knew what I had done from that memory thing made it all worse to me.”  
He looked up to Mark, yellow eyes meeting his own brown ones. Nathan took in a deep breath and whispered, “An’ I ruined it.”  
Mark coughed and words escaped his bloody lips, “Thank you.”  
Nathan’s eyes widened, and Mark could see them glossing over with some form of hope. He gently pulled Mark up, and he was barely able to stand with the effect of the medicine. He leaned against the wall and Nathan handed him a broom and stuck something in his pocket.  
“The broom is t’ support you and what I put in your pocket is t’ open all of the doors t’ this place. I can’t tell you what t’ do with it, but I hope you’ll figure it out.” He sputtered and opened the door to the closet. He helped Mark to stand up and guided him to his feet, though Mark noticed that even though he was on the pain medicine, he could still feel the sting of his broken bones. One step at a time, he was out, and Nathan dashed out, running the other way. He stopped at the end of the hallway and turned to him, “You’re on th’ first floor, have at it.”  
With that, he threw open a large door that was behind him, and before Mark could say another word, he fell backwards out of it, plummeting out of sight. Mark felt his heart sank, but the thought that he had the ability to free Sean filled him with determination, so trying to ignore the twitching in his legs, he stumbled to the stairs.  
Up he went, leaning on the railing and the broom for support. He took it one step at a time, his legs shaky and slowly returning the pain. His chest felt numb, but he was determined to continue. It may take forever to get up the stairs, he thought, but he wouldn’t leave Sean behind. And his wings were thankfully not harmed, so he would be able to leave at the very least.  
The top; the hall was torn up, and there was blood everywhere. Probably from someone dragging a body along the floor, and he faintly recalled that this was in fact where he started. He used the wall for support and slowly, but surely, made his way to the door labeled with Sean’s name. He pulled the key from his pocket, and it was similar to an automatic car starter. He was holding a ring, and there were two objects on it, the car-starter key and an abnormally sized and shaped Skeleton key. He looked at the door and pressed the button on the car-starter.  
Every single cell door in the upstairs and downstairs flew open and an alarm went off, and to Mark’s ears, he heard feet pounding against the flooring, then shouting as the Abnormals in the cages decided how they should leave. Though, only a minute later, everything was silent, and the door to Sean’s room opened.  
Green echoed around the room as Sean let out a noise, startled at the intrusion. Mark stumbled in and collapsed next to the cage before he put his hand on it. The sound of his palm hitting the metal made the object go pink, and he watched it through his tired eyes. Right behind Sean there was a keyhole, and after silently handing Sean the key, the man unlocked himself. He was free, and Mark couldn’t be happier.  
However, couldn’t get up. His joints locked into this position, and his head hung idly on his chest. Sean extended his wings, knocking over everything, filling the entire room with green. He looked to Mark, and saw him simply sitting.  
He opened his mouth, and quietly spoke, “Mark?” He crouched next to him, and Mark slowly raised his head to peer at his blank face. “Are ye alright?”  
Mark shook his head as green lines flashed over him. To this, Sean simply put his arms under Mark and pulled him up, sending a burning sensation through his ribs and arm. Sean held him close, as if he was hugging him, and slowly walked out. It was silent on the ship, and it gave Mark and Sean the right amount of time to get up the stairs to the third floor. Mark blankly glanced around, and seeing all the empty cells with the name plates knocked off of them made him smile.  
Mark saw Sean look at him, and the Irishman began to speak, “I’m not hurt, ye know. They caged me and were gonna start when you came into the radar’s view. They ran to that, but you disappeared from it, I guess.” He adjusted his hold on Mark, and the man heard tiny tapping from behind them. Sam, Tim, and Stephano, all three climbing into whatever pocket they could find. His smile widened; they hadn’t forgotten them.  
Sean threw the back door to the zeppelin open and stood on the balcony, carefully propping Mark up and leaning him against the railing. Mark watched Sean climb up and spread his wings, the air catching them and nearly ripping him off of the railing. Mark’s heart jumped out of his chest, though Sean kept himself in place. He extended his hand to Mark, and he stared at it. His eyes blankly wandered up to Sean’s, the man’s eyes filled with emotions and worry, and he looked almost as if he could burst into tears at any moment.  
He raised his good arm towards the Irishman and he pulled Mark up next to him, both of them standing on the railing facing each other. Mark extended his wings slowly, the pain of his ribs slowly cascading over him and he doubled over in pain. Sean caught him, and he spoke, though Mark couldn’t understand what he was saying.  
In the corner of his eye, Mark saw movement and turned his head to see a large figure barreling down the hallway. Mark didn’t get a good look at it, however, as when it came through the door Sean pulled the both of them off and they began to fall towards the earth. Mark looked over to Sean, and barely noticed when the Irishman grabbed his hand. His vision went blurry after that, and soon he had blacked out in the middle of the sky.  
When he woke up, he was in his bed. His room was clean; there were no clothes hanging over his dresser or his lamp, his nightstand was fixed up, and even his sheets were made over him and they smelled clean. Pain throbbed in his skull and he groaned, moving his arms to grab his head. One made it, and his broken arm just simply sat at his side as pain moved through that.  
Something moved at the foot of his bed, and he didn’t need to look to know that it was Sean. The man stood up and turned to him, his worried eyes looking at him with relief.  
“Good mornin’.” He muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck, and Mark slowly sat up, ignoring his ribs.  
“Hello.”  
Sean let out a half-assed laugh, “You’ve been asleep for a few days. Three, I think. I lost count.”  
Mark nodded as Sean sat down next to him, twirling the strings on his hoodie. Mark glanced him over, seeing he was dressed as he normally was. Hoodie, jeans, shoes, and even his old hat, covered in dust and dirt as it was. His wings twitched nervously behind him, and Mark spoke, “I see you cleaned up a bit.” His voice was scratchy and rough.  
“I had some help, th’ eye-spiders told me where things went. Well, Tim showed me at least. That guy named Nathan came over as well and we talked. It was all very awkward and he wouldn’t stop apologizing, but he seemed nice enough.” He told Mark, his eyes moving quickly as the words came to him. Mark went to open his mouth, but Sean spoke first, “How do you feel?”  
Mark snorted, “I feel like shit. There’s waves of pain constantly over my body from where they broke my bones, my head feels like it’s gonna explode, and my legs just feel numb.”  
Sean’s small smile fell from his face, and Mark reached a hand out, placing it on the Irishman’s leg. “I wish I could’ve done something…”  
“The most you can do for me right now,” He watched Sean look up to him, stare him in the eyes, “Is talk to me. You can sit next to me if you want too.”  
Sean nodded and quickly moved so he was next to Mark, even getting comfortable under the blanket and turning to him. He smiled, “I feel like a teenage girl at a sleepover. ‘Oh my god, Suzy, you’ll never guess what Patricia did last weekend!’” Sean let out a howl of laughter and Mark simply grinned. Sean returned to his serious expression, however.  
“But really, I guess I should tell you about those people. You know about the war, how it was the three sides who wanted to go in the different directions with the future? Well, they were the ones who led th’ Industrialists, or the ones who wanted everything t’ be ‘steampunky.’ They were against th’ Traditionalists, the people who wanted it to go back to the ways of the early 2000’s with the future tech, and th’ Progressionalists, who were the ‘everything in the future is chrome’ people who wanted the future to be thes stereotypical future vision and junk.”  
“A war of appearances…” Mark muttered.  
Sean scoffed, “Got that right. And you know that the Industrialists won, they converted everything into the industrial coggy, clocky look we know now. Originally the group was formed by Nathan Sharp himself, as a trifecta of Abnormalism, and he wanted to study the other Abnormals and what different things would do to them, including himself. He hired eight other people to help him out, and hired Ruby Baker to be his people picker.  
“Since Nathan was so small and shy, he had Baker ask Abnormals if they wanted to participate, but Baker soon, well, took over and gave them all little choice. He had a hit list of those he wanted eliminated and I was on it. He wanted to be the alpha, with his strength and massive wingspan.” Sean stared at his lap, then glanced up to Mark, “He’s got a 45 foot wingspan, you know, and it’s Perfect.” Mark watched him carefully, noting the small changes in his body movement and his head twitching.  
“I wanted to help, I wanted to learn more about myself as an Abnormal, ye know? And Baker just took over and wanted everyone dead or under his thumb,” He whispered. He stared Mark directly in the eyes, “Nathan’s a special Harpy, ya know? He’s a Truly Divine Harpy, with four feathered wings. They’re pure white, but they’ve taken a while to grow back. They were real lovely wings.” He was silent for a minute before he looked at Mark again, “He never wanted to hurt anyone, and he knows you won’t forgive him immediately for that but he’s a good kid.”  
Mark watched him, seeing the glint of the moonlight though his open window in Sean’s eyes, illuminating the blue of them and making them the prettiest shade he’d ever seen. He reached out and placed his hand on Sean’s shoulder and pulled him closer, his arm around Sean’s upper torso. A hug. Sean rested his head on Mark’s shoulder and carefully threw his arms around Mark’s shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating off of Sean’s body, his shaking, and could hear how heavily he was breathing.  
“I wish it was the 2000’s sometimes and we could go back to when we didn’t know any of this…” Sean muttered into his shoulder.  
Mark nodded, “If you’re here with me, it doesn’t have to be two thousand years into the future, Sean. It can be whenever you want it to be.”  
He felt the Irishman’s arms tighten around his shoulders and a smile pulled itself across Mark’s lips. “Mark?”  
“Yeah, Sean?”  
He let go of Mark and sat back, and Mark watched him carefully, “I missed you.”  
He yawned, saying after, “I did too, Sean.”  
“Are you tired? I can go sleep on the couch if you want me to leave.” He quickly said, and yawned himself.  
“No, you don’t have to go. I’m just going to sleep and try to forget how much everything hurts. You can’ stay there if you want.” He smiled, seeing the look in Sean’s eyes melt into care and trust. Mark slowly moved himself into a comfortable position, his entire body washed in pain, but just knowing that Sean was there made him feel so much better. He slept, soundly, and let the darkness of his sleeping mind draw him in.


	8. Ruby Baker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean stood up and pulled the pink-haired man up with him. Mark felt arms wrap around his body, and he returned the hug to his friend. He heard the man’s voice close to his ear, “I know I can’t promise that we’ll go home to the real earth, to a real house on the surface, but I’ll promise that I’ll always be here. I don’t intend to leave again any time soon, as dumb and cliche as that sounds.”  
> Mark nodded, “I know.”  
> Sean let him go and Mark looked at his friend, who was starting to flail his arms about wildly, “I say something heartfelt and meaningful and all I get is an ‘I know!?’ I expected more from you, Mark!” He laughed as he spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well damnit I forgot to write. I kinda started playing Undertale and I've played it at least 4 times by now.  
> Whoops.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: A lot of sadness and it gets a little gay. Finally. But only a little. HA.

He yawned.  
Mark was tired, and it had been a few days since he had gotten Sean. Since Mark still couldn't think straight after his head was beaten in and his balance was a little off, Sean had taken it upon himself to take care of him.  
He sat up, his head nearly bumping against the circular top of his bed and he leaned back, letting his body absorb the heat of the metal. He stared at the ceiling and itched at the bandages on his right arm. It stung, and was healing pretty fast, but it was taking too long for his liking, especially his leg. His ribs were mostly alright, though, and he had no problem breathing. He heard the door open and saw Sean’s face peek through.  
“Morning sunshine. Glad to see you awake at four in the afternoon.” He joked before throwing himself into the empty side of Mark’s bed.  
Mark rolled his eyes and shoved him with his good arm, “Not my fault, I need a lot of sleep in order for everything to fix itself.”  
“Right, and I need $20,000 at midnight on the corner in order to get that jukebox I want.” Mark could feel the sarcasm dripping off of Sean’s words.  
“I’m just tired, alright? Leave it alone!” Mark sighed and slid down to lay on his back. Sean sat up and stared at him. “Can I help you?”  
Sean’s smile fell from his face, “You know they’re gonna look for me, right?”  
Mark closed his eyes, “Don’t remind me. I know, but I just want to have you back in my life again. It’s really lonely without anyone to talk to or anything to do.” His leg started to sting, but this time it was his brand and not his broken bone. He tried to hide his pain.  
Sean looked at him in confusion, “Something wrong?”  
Mark shook his head, “It’s nothing really, just an old burn that burns every now and again.” He faked a smile, but Sean’s mouth twisted in doubt.  
“Let me see.” Mark’s face turned red and he sputtered out a no. “Why not? ’S just a burn isn’t it?”  
“A burn in an awkward place!” He remarked, his voice cracking as he spoke. Sean laughed. It wasn’t really awkward as it was inconvenient, and if he were to touch it, that wouldn’t be a fun time for Mark.  
“What, did ye shove a cast iron post up yer ass and get some third degree burns?” He joked, nearly falling off of Mark’s bed from laughing so hard. Mark would have laughed along with the Irishman, if it weren’t for the pain it would have caused him.  
“No, actually. It’s just a burn in a weird spot on my leg.”  
Sean cocked his head to the side, “I won’t touch it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Jus’ let me see it!”  
Mark sighed, “If you have to.”  
He sat up and slid the sheets down to about his knees, to pull up one leg of his shorts. Sean sat up, pulling himself next to the man to get a better look. He face shifted from what it was, a look of slight concern, to that of confusion. “You said it was a burn.”  
“Technically it is. It’s a brand, like they did on animals and junk like that. It’s a permanent burn on my skin that hasn’t even faded in several hundred years. Almost over a thousand if I remember right.” He rubbed the top of it, his thumb grazing across the four names, almost seeming to linger on Sean’s name. He could feel the Irishman watching him; he could feel the blue eyes piercing his skin and watching his fingers move slowly across his skin.  
He looked up at Sean, his mind snapping out of the small trance, the two locking eyes. Sean looked away first, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He cleared his throat, “I was actually doing something, I-I should probably get back to that.” Mark nodded, to which Sean quickly got up, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. With a sigh and some feeling of nausea in his stomach, he laid down and tried to go back to sleep. It was all he could do without getting up and putting his body in pain.  
He woke up at about midnight to Sean shaking him. Mark stared at him, concerned and confused. Sean whispered, “There’s something going on outside.”  
Mark sat up, pain going through his lower ribs like fire. Sean handed him something, some pain killers he guessed, and downed a few of them with the water that was at his bedside. Quite convenient. Sean yanked him up, covering Mark’s mouth as he nearly screamed in pain. He stood up straight as he could, then followed Sean out to the living room, peering out the window with the man.  
The front yard to his house was fine, as was the road leading up to it, but he looked into the distance, and saw a peculiar thing. It was a glow, orange and bright, lighting up the city and making the horizon glow like a fireplace. He stared, trying to figure out what the glow could be, and since it was late at night, he couldn’t quite tell. Sean pulled the window open and they both leaned out. Mark nearly fell out of the window; it wasn’t a just a fiery glow, he could smell it; it was a fire.  
The entirety of Adverant City was burning.  
Mark’s body tensed up, his entire chest tight, his heart steadily pounding harder and harder in his chest. His city, which he had been in for under a half thousand years, was slowly burning to the ground. A warm breeze blew over him, making him stop, look at Sean. Without a second thought, he jumped out of the window and took flight, barely hearing the worried yell that Sean sent out behind him. He soared, his wings beating faster than they had in a while, making his ribcage burn and sting. He barely noticed Sean running and soaring after him, only when the man was next to him and spoke did he notice.  
“Mark, this is pointless, there’s nothing you can do!” Sean waved his arms around wildly, “The whole town is up in flames and everyone is probably dead, there’s no need to!”  
Mark stopped and held himself in the air, grabbing Sean as he passed. He turned the man towards him, “No, Sean! There could be someone still in there, alive and scared, and slowly dying of fumes while someone like me could go and help them. But no, instead I’m here, yelling at you!”  
Sean’s face froze in fear and concern, his eyes cold and his mouth partly open. Mark let him go and flew away from him, getting as close to the city as he possibly could and diving into the nearest broken window. He searched the tall building, the smoke stinging his eyes and sending burning tears down his face. He drew his wings as close to his body as possible as to not catch them on fire. He shouted through the building for anyone that could be in it, screaming for anyone to answer him. He choked on the smoke, the thick air filling his lungs. His torso burned, his arm and leg ached, and no one answered him. He stepped over burning bodies and tried not to think of who or what they could be.  
Mark jumped from building to building, the bricks and steel collapsing on themselves, and occasionally he heard Sean yelling for people, as well as a third and fourth voice, which he hoped were other abnormals. Maybe they were Dr. Morgan, maybe they were Nathan, or maybe they were someone that Mark didn’t know. He ignored them and kept running around, almost getting crushed several times by falling buildings. He flew into a tall apartment building, screaming for anyone to answer him. He nearly fell down the stairs and yelled it again, and this time a voice answered him.  
It sounded like a little girl, and adrenaline filled his veins as he hurried towards the voice. His heart pounded in his ears and he could feel the blood in his body rushing through his veins. He burst through a door and looked around. He yelled for them again, and from a closet they ran to him, gripping him around the waist and crying with intense fear and shaking. He picked the little girl up as gently as he could and leapt out of the window as the steel collapsed in on itself. He held her head against his chest, now aware at how fast his heart was beating, just like a bass drum.  
He flew her to a group of normal humans, carefully setting her down before flying away and looking for more people. He kept at it until the entirety of the town had collapsed to the ground, piles of smoldering ash and brick burning out on the ground. He, as well as Sean and some other Abnormals had found fourteen people. Mark had called his car and had them driven in as few trips as possible to his home, to let them sleep for the night away from the smoke and destruction. It was soon 4 AM, and he was coughing up smoke with the other Abnormals.  
Sean was sitting next to him on the ground with his fingers in his hair, as well as Miss Morgan, Nathan, and three Abnormals by the names Claire, Jordan, and Danger. The latter three kept to themselves, picking through rubble and ash trying to find anything they could salvage. Nathan and Morgan stood a good twenty feet away from the two of them.  
Mark looked up to the sky as Sean spoke to him, “I can’t believe they would do that…” His voice was full of regret and fear.  
Mark glanced over to him, “What do you mean?”  
“Those assholes who lit the city on fire! It was Baker and whoever’s left of his crew, I’m sure of it. Saw the zeppelin flying around while I was looking for people.” Sean picked up a small silver stone, tossing it between his hands. Mark’s eyes returned to the sky, his eyes tracing the rising sun over the clouds. He felt the weariness through his entire body. He felt the other man staring at him. “Hey, are ye alright?”  
“No.”  
He said the word sharply and quickly, almost covering up the end of Sean’s sentence. The Irishman put his hand on Mark’s shoulder and turned Mark towards him, their eyes locking.  
“You know you can tell me what’s up.” He almost whispered the sentence.  
Mark took in a deep breath, “I want to go home. Not underground home, not bullshit fake earth home where the sky is a bunch of screens and the landscape is sparse and everything is ‘Steampunk’ and ‘Industrial.’ Home where there’s a real sky and a real sunset and real rain. That and my ribs hurt like a mother.”  
Sean was silent for a few moments, “Having a bad time down here?”  
There wasn’t a response from Mark that he could think to make, so he closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I guess after two thousand years, I’m finally falling apart.” He laughed, “It was gonna happen eventually.”  
Sean stood up and pulled the pink-haired man up with him. Mark felt arms wrap around his body, and he returned the hug to his friend. He heard the man’s voice close to his ear, “I know I can’t promise that we’ll go home to the real earth, to a real house on the surface, but I’ll promise that I’ll always be here. I don’t intend to leave again any time soon, as dumb and cliche as that sounds.”  
Mark nodded, “I know.”  
Sean let him go and Mark looked at his friend, who was starting to flail his arms about wildly, “I say something heartfelt and meaningful and all I get is an ‘I know!?’ I expected more from you, Mark!” He laughed as he spoke.  
Mark comically crossed his arms and sneered, “What did you want me to say, ‘I love you?’”  
“I just want to be appreciated! You’re so inconsiderate!” Mark felt a smile come across his face as he listened to the Irishman laugh.  
“Hey, Sean?”  
The man looked at him between laughs, “Yeah Mark?”  
“I want to show you something.” He said, launching himself into the air and flying towards where the hospital used to be, only looking back once to see if Sean was still there. He barely saw the man between the pillars of smoke rising from the earth, but his dull green hair let Mark know he was right behind him. He wasn’t paying attention and slammed right into the LSD sky, causing an echoing of laughter to emit from Sean. He laughed it off even though it made his broken bones sting, and fumbled around the wall of screens until he found the loose one. With help from Sean he ripped it out of the side and crawled in with the Irishman close behind him.  
It was the tunnel to the outside, and he walked through it silently. He could almost feel Sean behind him, and was quiet. He only turned to check and see if the Irishman was still there. They climbed out of the tunnel and Mark watched the expression on Sean’s face change dramatically. The man ran forward, his asymetric wings dragging on the ground behind him as Mark kept watching.  
“Is this…?” He heard Sean ask.  
“This is the surface of the Earth.” He walked up beside the man, watching him stare at the horizon. His eyes looked over Sean’s face, looking as the light of the sunrise fell over his face in small patterns, and Mark smiled. The man looked at him.  
“Are you staring at my handsome face?” He asked, dramatically posing with an eruption of laughter coming from his small body. Mark only smiled and turned towards the sunrise. “You alright, Mark?”  
“I just like this a lot better,” He whispered, “Just you and me on the surface of the earth and staring into the sunrise.”  
“Wow, you really are going loopy after living for so long.” Sean joked.  
Mark shrugged and scratched the back of his head. “It happens, I guess.”  
He stood there next to Sean for a long while, barely noticing the silence and tension growing in the situation. It had to have been ten minutes that they were there before he felt something touch his hand. He didn’t move his body, but he glanced over to see that Sean had slipped his fingers into Mark’s hand, intertwining them and staring forward as if nothing was going on. Mark smiled and lightly gripped the other man’s hand, standing only for a few minutes more before he suggested that they headed back underground.  
Several days passed, and it was now November, slowly getting colder as the leaves fell off the artificial trees. Mark had found another smaller town that was industrial and underground, relocating the fourteen people from the fire to it. They would be happier there, Mark figured.  
He slumped in his computer chair as Tim, Stephano, and Sam all played a game on his computer. The three spoke in small audio snippets that they had taken from Mark and Sean randomly talking around the house, as well as when the other people were there. Tim kept glancing back at Mark in some form of robotic worry, but the man never seemed to notice.  
He was tired, seeing as how it was 3 AM and he should probably get some sleep, but he couldn’t. He let Sean sleep in his room for the night, and he couldn’t bring himself to sleep, even on the couch. Sean had even offered to share the bed, but Mark declined and said he’d just stay up working on small things. The only thing on his mind, however, was Sean holding his hand. He had through about it ever since it happened, and it was bothering him. Not in any negative way, but it confused him. He usually chalked it up to it being a thing-of-moment event, but something in that just didn’t sit with Mark.  
He shrugged and watched the eye-spiders play OFF, ignoring the small pain still remaining in his ribs and arm. It got his mind off of the moment, watching them rhythmically click the keys, which somehow seemed to fall in rhythm with the background music. He breathed slowly, glancing over to the doorway of his room and simply staring. Mark thought for a moment, maybe he should ask Sean about it, but he ultimately decided against it. Tim toppled over, falling off the desk into his lap and simply sitting there. Mark picked up the tiny robot and placed it on his head, the small machine playing a purring sound clip before shutting itself down, into a pseudo-sleep mode.  
He heard a noise outside, almost like an explosion in the distance, and he slowly got up to see. The door to his room opened and he saw Sean stumble out, the man still half asleep. They walked to the window and stared out. Sean’s eyes snapped wide open.  
In the darkness, they saw a yellow and blue zeppelin had landed in the front yard. Sean leaned over to Mark and whispered, “What do we do?”  
Mark grit his teeth and thought for a second. He signaled for Sean to follow him, picking up the other two eye-spiders and shutting off the computer as they walked by. He hurried to his room and shut the door behind Sean. “Get normal clothes and whatever you can put in your pocket. We’re leaving out of this room and there’s nothing else we can do.” Sean nodded as Mark rushed to the closet. He nearly threw the door off to get at his things. He threw shirts out behind him, most of them landing on Sean, and settled on his lucky flannel. He threw is on, turning to see Sean pulling on a plain black shirt. He could vaguely remember the next few moments. Pants, shoes, tattered jackets, extra shirt. Small belongings in pockets, open bedroom window, secure eye-spiders, jump out, run.  
They didn’t bother to look behind them, or to even launch themselves into the air in flight, they simply ran into the trees behind Mark’s home, and when they were far enough in, he turned to watch his entire home go up in flames, the silhouettes of three Abnormals the only things visible in the fire.  
Mark’s chest felt heavy as they walked, the only noises being the ground against their shoes. His wings wriggled and writhed under the shirt, but he refused to let them out. The shirt couldn’t be damaged; he liked it too much. Stephano perched on Sean’s shoulder, pointing the golden light in front of them to guide them. Sean’s head was held high, his face tired and his expression limp. Mark smiled to himself, wondering how lucky he had to be to get stuck with Sean of all people. Tim and Sam were quiet, both powered off in Mark’s pocket. He heard Sean sigh and turned to him. “Something wrong?”  
“Nah, just needed to hear you say somethin’. ‘S too quiet out here for us to not talk.” Sean gave him a cheeky grin.  
Mark rolled his eyes, “Says the guy who used to never shut up.”  
“Things change, Mark. I’m a new man now!” He threw his arms into the air, nearly throwing Stephano off.  
‘Hey!’ The pitch of the sound clip was tripled, Stephano clinging to Sean’s shoulder as best it could.  
Sean scooped it up and put it on his head, which Mark now noticed he had his old hat on, “Sorry about that, pal.” He turned to Mark and smiled, “You alright?”  
Mark shrugged, running his fingers through his pink hair. “My house is gone, the only things we have are what we shoved in our pockets, and there’s three Abnormals after us. So I’m doing pretty peachy.”  
“Oh don’t be so mad about it. At least you’ve got me.”  
Mark tried to fake a smile, but he could feel Sean staring him down. “No, I’m fine, really.”  
“If you say so.” Sean shoved his hands into his pockets and was silent for a moment. “Wait, what do you mean there’s three Abnormals after us!?”  
“I turned around as we were running, there were three Abnormals I could see, out in the flames. Y’know, when my home was burning down.”  
Sean nodded, “Right, right…”  
“They’re probably Baker and I think Eoco. I’m not sure who the third one was.” He continued, “But that doesn’t matter.”  
“That doesn’t matter, for I am STRONG, and HANDSOME, and will PROTECT US!” Sean threw himself into a dumb pose, almost mocking Mark and nearly knocked him over. Mark shoved him and laughed, his smile fading off of his face. Sean straightened up and stopped walking, grabbing Mark by the shoulder and turning him towards him. “Hey, you’re s’posed to mock me now. What’s wrong?”  
“I’m just not feeling up to it right now.” He mumbled. “Bummed out that my house is--”  
“Mark you didn’t give a shit about that house.” Mark looked up at him, his expression shifting. “I know you never liked the industrial era they made everything into. The house and it’s stuff except the computer meant nothing to you and you can’t tell me it didn’t.” He scratched the back of his neck, “You talk in your sleep, and I jus’ kinda listen sometimes.”  
“Well you’re not wrong.” He laughed lightly, a poor attempt at brightening the mood. He stared at his shoes, trying to avoid looking at him.  
“Mark.”  
He didn’t look up.  
He felt arms lock around his upper body, wrapping him in a tight hug. Mark found his arms around Sean’s chest and felt the Irishman’s face pressed into his shoulder. He muttered something, which Mark made it out to be ‘you don’t have to tell me, I understand.’ His chin rested on the shorter man’s shoulder, his eyes shut and his grip on him loose. He had the thought of it being like a man and his clingy girlfriend, but he brushed the thought away.  
“Hey Mark?” Sean muttered, “This… Th-This isn’t weird for you is it?” Mark shook his head in response. “G-Good, I jus’ didn’t know what else to do.”  
“It’s alright, Sean. It’s kinda nice to have someone sincerely hug you for once.” He tightened his hold on him, though neither seemed to notice. He felt the smaller man’s wings under his arms, adjusting nervously and twitching. Mark pulled himself away, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing back to Sean.  
“You’re really warm.” He muttered, adjusting his cap. They laughed quietly, and Mark almost swore that Sean’s face was turning red.  
“How touching.”  
The voice was neither Mark’s or Sean’s, and frantically they turned towards the sound. Sean grabbed Mark’s arm tightly as the eyes of Ruby Baker stared at them, Eoco Secra on his left and a beaten, battered, abused, and restrained Nathan to his right. Nathan’s red hair was spattered with blood, his horns broken at the ends and boney regrowings of wings poking horridly out of his back. His eyes were closed. His chest heaved, almost as if he were hyperventilating, or his lungs were filled with fluid. Mark pushed the thought out of his head.  
“You know, Mr. Fischbach, I don’t see how it is that you and Sean ended up reunited. Nathan here must have been a really good sport. You know, even though he betrayed you after he regained his memories.” Baker laughed and kicked him to the ground. “Here’s the deal. You give me McLoughlin. Eoco and I will… Take good care of your friend. We give you back this poor, tortured soul that you can do whatever with. If not, well, Mr. Secra here has learned a few ways of disposing of Abnormals.”  
Eoco nodded, his blonde hair glimmering in the light of the slow-rising sun. “I have a better idea, Sir Baker.” He said with a devious smile  
“Let’s hear it then!” He laughed, picking up Nathan and throwing him in the general direction of Mark and Sean.  
“How about if I killed all three of them here and now, so that we never have to worry about them ever again?” A smile filled Eoco’s face, one which Mark didn’t want to grace with a description.  
Baker threw himself up into the air and hovered, his massive wings blowing gale force wings in their direction. A massive, toothy smile crossed his face. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

~ViraLayton


	9. Nate Smith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He heard the door slam into the wall and quick footsteps pounded towards him. His eyes snapped open and he felt arms around his chest, breathing on his neck, and heard the sigh of relief coming from the new person. Green hair was pushed up into his face to which he carefully wrapped his broken arms around his friend. “Sean?”  
> “I’m glad you’re awake,” He muttered, “I woke up a few hours ago and I got really worried when they told me that you hadn’t even showed signs of waking up yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adverant told me not to kill anymore characters.  
> So I killed 3. Love you all.  
> Oh, and the death doesn't end here!
> 
> **PLEASE NOTE: Nathan Sharp and Nate Smith are two different people. Truth be told, their names should have the opposite last names, but I messed up lolol**
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: DEATH, violence, some gore I guess, death of a bachelor, and Robo-bears.

Sean screamed.  
They didn’t get very far trying to run from Baker and Eoco, though they tried their very best without flying. They were fast on their feet, but they were chased all the way to the ocean, on a cliff, and without having enough room to fly, they were caught by Baker and Eoco. It wasn’t a very graceful experience, with Mark’s face buried in the ground and Sean tied to a tree. Nathan was unconscious off to the side, though he was quickly forgotten in the rest of the noise.  
Mark was thrown down into a small niche in the roots of a tree, his face pressed into the ground with Baker’s shoe shoving his face into the ground. He could hear Sean being hit over and over and over again, his bones crunching and breaking slowly in the background, though for the most part his screams drowned out the horrible crunching and breaking. He thought they were hard to hurt, and harder to kill, but it seemed as though he might have been wrong. Maybe Eoco just had a special thing in him to break their bones, to beat them down. He didn’t want to even think of how strong Baker was if he could shatter his bones with a bat.  
The screaming stopped. Baker took his foot off of Mark’s head and yanked him up. He couldn’t speak from the initial shock of the situation. Sean’s face was red, bloody, his lips split and bleeding profusely from a large gash above his left eye. He was panting, his chest heaving and his neck beginning to bruise from Eoco’s hand being there. His arm bent at a disturbing angle, his hands mangled and bruised. Mark didn’t get a chance to look at his lower half before he was thrown at Eoco, caught by the blonde man’s strong hands and thrown up against his friend. Eoco pinned him by the throat, like he figured he had done to Sean, and began to hit.  
He took one blow to the face, his head hitting the tree behind him and knocking him out.  
He saw nothing in his blackout; no memory to remember, not a single thought crossed his mind, no dreams came to him. Though when he woke, he hoped that he would’ve been out longer.  
Sean was sitting in the roots of the trees where he had been, his body in a limp pile of Abnormal and blood. He thought he saw his bones sticking out of his legs, but he couldn’t tess. His eyes felt fuzzy, and he could feel that his entire body was numb. He didn’t want to look at himself, he thought of getting to Sean first, until he heard voices.  
“Well, I think it’s sufficient to say that they’re taken care of. They’re close to being gone.”  
“And you’re absolutely sure that they’re going to be disposed of?”  
“Yessir. They’ll bleed out as soon as I deliver a small additional cut, though to make it quicker I think I’ll just leave them a little more mangled than just stabbed. I’ll take care of Nathan as well, sir.”  
“I shall leave then. Never find me again until they’re dead.”  
Mark saw someone walk past him, though his face was pressed halfway into the ground, obscuring his vision. He heard wings pound against the air and gravity and figured it was just Eoco left. He felt himself being rolled over and saw Eoco staring straight into his eyes. He was sitting on Mark’s hips, the pressure making him lose feeling in his lower half. The man smiled, his blood splattered face darkened in the light. “Hello, Mr. Stone. You’re a dirty liar, I realize. Mark Fischbach is a wonderful name. Edward Stone, in my opinion, it’s a little drab. You could’ve done better at that moment when we first met. Still wish you would have let me bring you home, you attractive devil. I could have treated you like a queen in bed and beyond that even.”  
“You know, I think this is a perfect moment for me. After I kill you I’ll get what I want out of you and then I’ll kill your friend. And then I’ll kill that damn Doctor Sharp. I never liked him, he was too… Nice.” He reached into the pocket of his red vest, pulling out a small dagger, the hilt covered in red glass stones, and pointing it right over Mark’s sternum. “One shot to the sternum will make you bleed out. I’d get the back of your neck since it’s easier, but you’re laying on it, and I want you to watch me kill you. You know, in a sense, we’re kind of like titans. Impervious beasts with the neck being a weak point. Quaint, isn’t it?”  
Mark squinted, almost having an urge to laugh. He was monologuing, and even telling him how he was going to kill him. That was a purely dumb thing to do, in Mark’s fading mind. Eoco pushed the dagger towards Mark’s jaw. “Not that you can move, but I’d love to hear a handsome man like you’s famous last words.”  
Mark thought, a dumb and fuzzy, and looked at him in the eyes. “Hell if I know.” His voice was ragged, and speaking felt like he was swallowing a bucket of sandpaper.  
“‘Hell if I know,’ Mark Fischbach 4015!” Eoco howled, his dagger raised.  
Mark used everything he had in him, despite the intense pain, to sit up and slip under his arms, much to Eoco’s surprise and horror, and planted his lips on the other’s. He heard the dagger drop to the ground behind him and felt the stronger man’s hands in his hair. He tried to ignore what the other man was beginning to do with his tongue and leaned back, just enough to fumble around for the dagger behind him. A brief moment later, Eoco pulled back, his hair a mess and he looked fully surprised. He leaned his forehead on Mark’s as the smaller man grabbed the handle of the dagger. “My, my, Mark. I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”  
He said the back of the neck, didn’t he? Mark thought he did. He leaned forward, his lips inches from Eoco’s. “The feeling is mutual.”  
Eoco’s eyes changed, his expression dropping as Mark usd the rest of his energy to lift his arm, the dagger sinking into the back of Eoco’s neck, pointing out right through the front of his throat. The man choked, gagging noises coming from his shaking body as he fell backwards, his head hitting the ground and the blade’s handle pushing the rest of the way through his throat, ripping out of his body. It was enough to make Mark throw up, though the only thing that came out of his mouth was blood. He pulled himself away from Eoco, collapsing back to the ground as his eyes began to close. For a split second he mused over the idea that it had been a little too easy, and he heard footsteps and panicked screaming as he faded out again.  
This time, when he opened his eyes, he was in a bed in a hospital room. He felt a mask over his nose and heard quiet beeping, and standing over him was a woman with blue hair. Morgan Want. She looked relieved, and Mark heard her let out a sigh of relief. Mark heard something squeaking against the floor and saw her drop out of his vision. “Mark, can you talk? If not, just nod if you remember me.” He moved his head as little as he could, now feeling a massive amount of pain in his body. “Good, good. I, well, I thought you weren’t gonna wake up.”  
Mark felt a hand on his, the hand cold as ice, but he felt the care from it, “I know you barely know me, but with everything the little robots told me, it feels like I already know you. What were they, eye-spiders?” She laughed, “They were the ones who came and found me for you. Guess they trust me. That and they’re really fast. A-Anyway, you’re really beat up, Mark. Broken nose, damaged nerve tissue, broken bones, internal bleeding, cuts, bruises, partial asphyxiation from your throat being partly collapsed. You’ve dislocated your leg from your hip, and you could have a severe concussion. Your wings are fine, surprisingly.”  
He choked out a word, “Sean?”  
“He’s a little worse off than you, more broken bones and his elbow is dislocated. That and he’s got a lot of internal damage and part of his skull and jaw is cracked. He’s in surgery right now getting things set, fixed, the usual. You’re next up.” Morgan sighed, standing up slowly. She ran her fingers through her blue hair and looked at him, her crystalline eyes staring into his. “You’d better get some more rest, Mark. You’re probably gonna be in there for a long time. Sean may have been hit in more places than you, but that dead guy we found beat the living hell out of you.” She walked away, Mark only seeing the white ceiling and it’s flickering lights. He closed his eyes.  
He really killed Eoco. That was the first thing he thought of, and it disturbed him. He thought that an Abnormals skin was like diamond; unbreakable, unable to be damaged. Sure, they got hurt tripping and small cuts like any other almost-human creature did, but he didn’t know they could break him. Maybe he didn’t have the right information. Maybe he was hurt more because his skin was harder to break than Sean’s or Nathan’s.  
Nathan? He remembered that he was there too. Despite betraying him, he still worried about the other Abnormal. He wasn’t as beat up as Sean had been, he hoped, but he still had that lingering thought. His thoughts were interrupted by a doctor standing over him, his black hair draping over his glasses and he smiled at Mark.  
“Hello, I’m Nate Smith. I’m actually Doctor Want’s fiance, but that doesn’t matter at the moment. I’m your surgery prep, so just close your eyes and I’ll take care of everything.”  
Mark remembered closing his eyes, and it was almost like blinking, though when he opened them next, he was sitting up in an entirely different room. The walls were white and the ceiling was a strange shade of light blue. Mark raised his left arm, finding that it was wrapped in a cast and barely moved. He noticed that it didn’t hurt, guessing that he must’ve had some drug administered to him. He turned his head slowly, seeing three other beds in the room, though his vision was too blurry to tell if anyone was in them. He saw movement in the corner of his eye, near what he thought was a door or a window. Blue and black moved towards him, and when they were close enough, he picked out that it was Doctor Want and the man from earlier, Nate Smith.  
“Well good morning, Mark, glad to see you’re awake.” Nate smiled, “You’ve been out for a few days. Most of the small damage to your body has healed, though the broken bones, scars, and other large things obviously haven’t.”  
“Sean is already up and trying to walk around, by the way,” Morgan added, “He’s been trying to walk around for about a half an hour.”  
Mark spoke, his voice raspy and his words almost getting stuck in his throat, “What day is it?”  
“It’s November 6th, you’ve been asleep for almost four days.” Nate shoved his hands into his pockets, “If you can walk around and are conscious enough, you can sign out, but I’d recommend staying another day so we can make sure you’re alright awake.”  
Mark nodded, leaning forward and listened to his back pop and crack from being stiff for so long. The doctor duo left him be, the room silent and empty. He glanced around, though without glasses or contacts in he still couldn’t tell if there was anyone in the beds. He leaned back into the pillows, his eyes going towards the ceiling. He felt his eyes grow heavy, his body sinking into the pillows.  
He heard the door slam into the wall and quick footsteps pounded towards him. His eyes snapped open and he felt arms around his chest, breathing on his neck, and heard the sigh of relief coming from the new person. Green hair was pushed up into his face to which he carefully wrapped his broken arms around his friend. “Sean?”  
“I’m glad you’re awake,” He muttered, “I woke up a few hours ago and I got really worried when they told me that you hadn’t even showed signs of waking up yet.”  
“Well, here I am! Fully conscious and waiting to leave!” He flailed his arms around, dull pain slowly flooding through his body, though he didn’t really seem to notice. Sean laughed and released him, sitting back and looking at him.  
“He certainly beat the shit out of you, didn’t he?” Sean looked to his knees.  
Mark nodded, his eyes feeling heavy. “He did, you don’t look any better though.”  
Sean jumped up, thumping himself on the chest with his palm, which mark saw under his shirt was covered in bandages, “I look amazing! Like always but better!”  
Mark laughed and rolled his eyes, “C’mon man, don’t be like that. I’m the one who’s full of myself here!”  
“Oh yes, I forgot, I do apologize Mr. So-Strong-And-Handsome!” Sean waved an arm in the air, making Mark grab the pillow he was leaning against and throw it at the man. It barely got to him, falling short, barely hitting Sean’s knees. He feigned pain and fell backwards, “Oh no, I have been slain! Tell me mother I love her!”  
Mark laughed and leaned forward and stared at him, his eyes open wide. Deliberately creepy. Sean laid on the floor for a moment before he opened his eyes and locked eyes, letting out a little scream of surprise. “Mark! Don’t look at me like that, ye smelly.”  
“I’m only staring into your soul, Sean! Don’t be such a grumpy gumpled wumpus woo.” He taunted, leaning back and watched Sean stand up fully.  
“I’ll have you know--!” He started, and Mark watched as his torso shook in an unnatural way, making the Irishman double over in pain. He grabbed the railing of Mark’s bed and leaned on it, his body shaking.  
“Sean!?”  
The green-haired man looked up at him, his eyes watery and he smiled, “Mark, I’m fine. Jus’, I don’t know, I guess--”  
“Just sit down.” Mark said, his raspy voice low. The other man simply nodded and slowly sat down, adjusting himself so he sat right next to the man. Mark nudged him with his shoulder, “What’d you break?”  
“Couple of ribs, my head and jaw, though I’m super drugged up there so I can’t feel it. All of my left arm pretty much, and my left elbow is dislocated.” He counted on his fingers as he listed them off, staring at the ceiling, “I think they said one other, but I don’t quite remember. May have just fractured something. Not to mention internal organ damage, mostly my stomach and that area.” He turned and looked at Mark, their eyes locking for a brief moment.  
“I’ve broken both arms, I’m pretty sure.” Mark muttered, coughing every so often from the irritation in his throat, “My throat collapsed, damaged nerves, broken nose. There was probably glass from my glasses in my face too. Think my ribs are broken again, and I dislocated my leg. From my hip. I did a good job at not dying though.”  
Sean laughed, “Yeah, you did.” For a few moments they were uncomfortably quiet, and he spoke again, “Your wings alright?”  
“As far as I know. I don’t have the balls to get up and check unlike you, Mr. ‘I have to go see my friend and I don’t care if I’m almost dead, it’ll happen.’” He mocked.  
Mark shoved him, “Hey, at least you got up. I kinda can’t. You had the determination to see me.”  
Sean laughed, “Yeah, that’s true.” He crossed his arms and leaned back into the pillows. His eyes shut tightly, as if thinking of something. “Hey Mark?”  
“Yes, Mr. Determination?”  
“Stop giving me dumb nicknames!” He shrieked, lightly punching Mark in the shoulder. “Uhm, well. I have to tell you something.” Mark looked at him, seeing his face slowly turning red. “I, well, like you.” Mark tried his hardest to not blurt out some stupid, snarky comment, but figured that it’d be better if he kept his mouth shut. “Not platonically, but romantically. Not that I don’t like you platonically, but…” He threw his good arm in the air, “You know what I mean!” His face was bright red. “It’s a crush on you!”  
Mark laughed, feeling the second-hand embarrassment full on. Sean crossed his arms angrily and did a fake pouty face, “Well, Sean. Let me tell you something.” Sean’s face whipped towards Mark, and as he was about to say something, the lights went out, making the room pitch black.  
“Wow, someone must really like putting us in good situations and really turning them to utter shit.” Mark mumbled. He heard Sean get up before a small, bright light flooded over the floor. “Is that my phone?”  
“Yeah, they gave it to me instead of you.” He walked towards the door and opened it, “Nothing out here, it’s pitch black. Hello!?” Mark turned his body towards Sean, one leg dangling off of the bed. “Nothin’. Mark, get up.”  
“I don’t want to hurt myself!”  
Sean turned to him, his face still burning red, “You’ve been asleep for four days and we heal abnormally fast. Get the hell up.”  
Mark put his hands up and slowly got up, stumbling at first before getting his balance straight. It was at this moment that he was only wearing the jeans he had been in. His entire upper body was covered in thick bandages and that was it. Red emergency lights flickered on, dimly lighting the hall in a few spots.  
“Now what?” He stumbled over to Sean, his body not in as much pain as he thought it would be. They looked into the hall, and Sean opened his mouth as if about to speak, when something started playing over the loudspeaker system. Music, as if from a music box. The Toreador Song. From down the hall, the sound of a bear growling echoed in their heads for a second followed by waves of screaming that kept constantly getting cut off.  
Mark and Sean took off running as fast as they could. Mark fell quickly behind Sean, his leg increasing in pain as he limped along. Screams echoed out from behind them, the two turning away from them and into an empty surgery room. A map of the area they were in was on the wall, and Sean quickly took a picture of it before they took off again.  
“We’re in the Bazaar, well, a lower level of it,” the Irishman said between gasps.  
Mark nearly tripped over a ‘wet floor’ sign. “What do you mean a lower level!?”  
“Uhm, this is the fifth floor of the Bazaar, the Hospital level. The ones above are a school, an apartment area, some sort of recreational arena, and the Bazaar.” He slid past a wheelchair in the middle of the hall.  
“Well jeez, if I’d’ve known that, I would’ve stayed here!” Mark yelled, his legs starting to really ache.  
Mark tripped over something as they ran through a set of closed doors, nearly falling into the wall. He turned and looked, his heart sinking at what he had tripped over. It was his pre-op doctor, Nate Smith, who he remembered was engaged to Doctor Want. He was shaking, his chest was heaving violently and three deep, large gashes decorated his torso. His black shirt was soaked with blood, his glasses shattered and limp on his face.  
They stopped, to listen, and after hearing silence, the knelt down next to him. Mark gently grabbed the man’s hand, “Nate?”  
The man’s brown eyes slowly opened, glassy, and lifeless. “Hey… Mark… You’re aw-awake.” Mark nodded, listening to every cough and wheeze, “I think that… means you’re gonna be al-alright… Have you… seen Morgan? I-I’m worried that… automaton go-got to her. Eh, she’s a strong woman. I know… she’ll be alright.”  
“Hey, Nate, you’re gonna be alright, we can help.”  
Nate shook his head, “No… I’ve lived for long enough, if I-I bleed out I’ll be alright. That… it’s how we die right? Bleeding out… Hey, could… you give this to her if you see h-her? I well, can’t.”  
He pulled something off of his neck, handing it to Mark and weakly sitting back. It was a necklace with a ring on it, the ring a plain black and silver band with a small red gem set in it. He slipped it into the pocket of his jeans and looked at Nate, who was muttering under his breath. It sounded like he was hallucinating.  
“H-Hunter…? Haven’t seen… you in forever, man… Maybe we can call Morgan in, she’ll… play Smash with us… I-I love her so much..”  
His breath slipped out, and his chest stopped heaving. His body grew limp, and his eyes stared off into the distance, beyond Sean. Mark let go of his hand and stood, quickly running in the direction they were originally going. Sean followed closely behind.  
They were quiet, started as the Toreador March started playing over the loudspeakers again. Sean spoke through gasps, “Good friend of yours?”  
“Barely knew him.”  
They threw a door open, to a staircase and hurried up it as fast as their legs could carry them. A crash at the bottom of the stairs nearly knocked Mark over out of fear, but they continued.  
By this point, Mark’s entire body was in complete pain, and he figured Sean’s was as well. The Irishman looked at him, his eyes worried, and extended a hand out to him. Mark gladly took it and was almost dragged behind Sean, but the pace was kept. They were in the school section of the area, and Mark tried his best to not look at the bodies all over the floor. It looked like a tornado came through and gouged out people’s insides. It was quite sickening, and not to mention the squishing noises under their feet were enough to make Mark’s head swim. They continued on, blood splashing up as they walked.  
Mark heard something behind them, and turned to see something lumbering up the stairs and breaking down the door. It made both men freeze in their tracks. It was a giant grizzly bear, on all fours, with a shoulder height equivalent to Mark’s. It stood on it’s hind paws, towering over the men and bumping into the ceiling, and Mark swore he saw a bow tie around it’s neck. It growled, all three still. Mark felt Sean’s grip on his hand tighten, and he heard quiet sounds, like that of a robot moving as the bear settled back down and looked around. The eyes were red, and it slowly walked forward, whirring and clicking as it moved. It was an automaton; an animatronic grizzly bear. A red light scanned the room, coming from the eyes of the bear. It stopped on them, and a voice came from within.  
‘Target, found. Fischbach. Target, found, McLoughlin.’  
It was a harsh, gritty voice, the robotic undertones echoing around and hurting Mark’s ears. Now that they had stopped, his broken body in so much pain that his eyesight was beginning to fade. He started to sway when the bear charged full force, the floor shaking under it’s weight and power. Sean yanked Mark towards the end of the hall, the bear gaining on them and almost on them as they went on. Sean pulled a door open labeled ‘Stairwell’ and threw Mark in, slamming the door behind them. His chest heaved, the pain of Mark’s ribs rattling through his body and almost making him fall over. Sean turned to him.  
“Mark? Are ye alright? We gotta keep moving.”  
“Just my ribs…” He wheezed, and they ran up the steps to the next floor.  
The room was covered in dust, except for a singular path on the carpet that lead into a side hallway. It wasn’t quite like the dust that would collect on a book if you didn’t touch it for several years though. It looked almost like sand to Mark, but a crashing downstairs made him and Sean both run as fast as they could.  
As they turned to the hall, someone standing in the way made all three crash into a big heap. Mark and Sean got up as quickly as they could to find that it was Dr. Morgan Want. She jumped up and looked at them, frightened.  
“Mark, Sean!? How are you two--” A growl from the stairwell interrupted her, “N-Nevermind! Have you seen my Nate? Or your Nathan, or anyone alive!?” She was nearly screaming, but the door caving in sent all three into another panicked run, Mark beginning to limp and think his leg would fall off at this rate. Morgan ran faster than them, and the sound of metal crashing into the wall made the men catch up with her.  
Mark quickly reached into his pocket, getting next to her and handing her the necklace with the ring on it. She nearly stopped when she saw it, her eyes watering up and her pace slowing. The bear charged, the three managing to keep outrunning it.  
She spoke in a whisper, “What did he say last?”  
Mark was too winded to reply, so Sean spoke for the man, “‘I love her so much.’ He was so worried about you, but he knew you were strong.”  
A solemn smile crossed her face, and she threw the necklace around her neck. “I got this far, must be right about something.”  
The three got to the door, Morgan’s hand gripping the round handle. Mark watched in fear, and his body froze when she twisted the door, only to find it locked. They exchanged glances before slowly turning to the problem. The bear stopped several feet away from them, the red light scanning them from it’s eye.  
‘Target, found. Fischbach. Target, found. McLoughlin. Target, found. Want. Target, locked. Want.’  
Mark glanced at her, Morgan’s eyes narrow and she eyed the robot, confused and resolute. She took a step forward and pulled her white lab coat off, showing a blue tanktop and light purple jeans. Her sneakers squeaked as she took another step towards the bear. Her left hand reached up to pull Nate’s necklace off of her neck and slipped something else on it before she threw it to Mark. He wasn’t paying attention, however, and Sean caught it.  
She stepped forward once more and spoke, “You killed my Fiance. Nate Smith… I don’t know what’s in there or if there’s someone listening from a microphone inside, but I don’t mind. Just kill me now, let me be with him. I don’t know why you’re after me, but just do it. I’ll get to say I love him one last time.” She turned her back to it.  
The door to the stairwell popped open as the bear rushed Morgan, and Mark and Sean ran in just as the animatronic’s claws pierced the back of her throat, her head falling off just as Sean shut the door.

~ViraLayton


	10. Felix Kjellberg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man walked towards him, his hair covering his face. He was a blonde man, as tall as Mark was, his clothes that of someone who was a Steampunk mechanic. In the dim light, he could make out the man only when he was standing right in front of him.  
> “...Silas?”  
> He looked up, his blonde hair falling out of his face to reveal a familiar one, though it wasn’t that of Silas Kjellberg. Scruffy, dark hair decorated his chin, and his face was covered in soot, but the man’s features signified that he wasn’t his boss. “No, not Silas. Not Baker. Just your old friend that nobody remembered was Abnormal. Emitting hallucinogens to make you see what I wanted you to see. Small, petty wings like a dragonfly would have. Just me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happy in the middle, don't worry  
> Then ending horribly but I promise the ending will be happy.  
> But FOR NOW. YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED FEELS.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Murder, major character death, relationship goals, utter confusion, returning characters.

The noises.  
Horrible, horrible squishing noises sounded on the other side of the door, bones breaking, and things being thrown and broken shadowed out Mark’s head. He barely noticed that he and Sean were going up stairs, that they were running constantly, or that they had even left the Bazaar and were in the air. His mind raced with the deaths of everyone, and though he was centuries old, he hadn’t seen anyone die in forever, let alone at least four people in such a short span of time. It rattled his mind beyond understanding.  
He finally came to his senses when they landed, Sean shaking Mark and they stared at each other, confused. “Mark?”  
“Yeah?” His voice was rough and lifeless, and his body felt numb.  
“You’re a little out of it. Ye alright?”  
Mark shook his head, “No. I… That’s four people I’ve seen die just within my reach, Sean. Recently, too.”  
Sean nearly rolled his eyes, “I know it sucks, but we’re out of trouble now. We’re away.”  
“I hope Nathan’s alright…”  
Sean cocked his head to the side, “I thought he died…?”  
Mark shook his head, “No, that was Nate. Nathan is a redheaded Irish boy.”  
Sean let go of Mark, “Well whatever.” He sat down, his arm casts battered, as well as Mark’s. Neither seemed to notice their injuries and Mark placed himself next to the man, silent.  
“So many Abnormals dead…” Mark stared up at the fake sky, the stars in the lcd space slowly fading into the dawn. “And I knew barely any of them. Just thinking about it makes me sick.”  
Sean huffed, “If you hadn’ta skipped out on th’ war, maybe you’d be as numb to this as I am. I was supposed to kill you, but you never showed up so I had to fight in the real war anyway. I was forced to against the Progressionalists, and boy did they have some weapons. I was forced to fight for the Industrialists, and… There were so many bodies. None were Abnormal, but just so many humans fighting and fighting, blood and bodies and broken weapons everywhere. And somehow the Industrialists won against the Progressionalists and the Traditionalists. Copper and Leather won against Chrome and Plastic. But just the sheer amount of death was enough to make you numb after a week. It’s sad, isn’t it?” Sean ran his fingers through his hair, and Mark noticed his entire body was shaking.  
“Are you alright, Sean?”  
“Hm?” He turned to Mark and looked perturbed, “Guess I made myself upset is all. Anxious at the thought of our death.”  
“We’ll be alright, I hope.”  
Mark closed his eyes, numbness starting to leave his body as he thought. He barely knew any of those Abnormals, and Silas as well, he remembered, and felt his heart beating fast enough to shake his whole body. They were all quite nice, with Eoco being the only exception. The only creepy exception. He felt pressure in his side and figured it was Sean. Maybe he had fallen asleep, though he could feel him shaking. He opened his eyes, and was startled to see a pair of yellow ones staring back at him. His body jerked, sending Sean into a frenzied fit next to him.  
“M-Mark?”  
Sean jumped up and took a step back while Mark slowly stood, “Nathan?”  
The redhead’s chest was shaking, and his eyes were glassy and wet. Several large scars covered his nose and cheeks, connecting his freckles. Parts of his horns were chipped and one had a large chunk off of it entirely. Four odd protrusions stuck out from his back as well. “Mark, I-I’m so sorry…”  
“Nathan I know.” He was still kinda butt-hurt about what happened, but the anger had worn off and was replaced with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach he couldn’t quite name. He held his arms out and the smaller man ran over, hugging him tightly. He rubbed the back of Nathan’s head and sighed.  
“Mark, what’re ye doing?” Sean asked, and Mark could hear his voice shaking.  
“Showing someone understanding.”  
“Please stop.”  
Mark gently let go of Nathan and turned, seeing a terrified look on Sean’s face. Nathan stepped towards him and muttered, “S-Sean it’s not my fault.”  
“Yes it fuckin’ is!” He hollered, his face going red.  
“W-Well it wasn’t originally! Y-You know what happened when I tried to fire him!”  
Sean ran at him, only stopped by Mark’s hand, “Yeah, I was fucking CLIPPED of my WING!”  
“I-I’m sorry! I...” Nathan’s chest began to heave, “I can’t…” Sean backed off and walked away, standing a few hundred feet away from the both of them. He jumped up into a tree and Nathan quietly muttered to Mark. “He told you what happened, right? About how I was just researching and hired Baker. Besides being weird and making strange noises, he made our lives a living hell… Well one day when we were checking on him, I made a small slip up of saying that I wondered what would happen if you cut off a Harpy’s wings.” He buried his face in his hands, “He would’ve decapitated me, I know it. I didn’t want to lose research so… It went off.” Mark looked towards where Sean was, his outline in the tree blacked out by the fake sun behind him. “He hates me so much. You probably do too, after the things I did.”  
“Truthfully, it doesn’t matter what you did. All that’s important is that you were honest with yourself and tried to stop. What happens now… it’s all up to you. But sometimes… we act like we know what’s gonna happen. Like we’ve already experienced it all before. ...It’s an odd thing to say, but… If we have some sort of special power… Isn’t it our responsibility to do the right thing?” Mark stared at Sean’s silhouette as he spoke, his voice surprisingly steady as the words came out. He saw the man turn towards him, voiceless.  
Nathan nodded, not speaking as he couldn’t find the words, and looked at his shoes. Sean leapt out of the tree and slowly approached them, standing a ways away from Nathan and Mark. Nathan reached into his pocket, pulling out something and handing it to Mark. “It… It’s our responsibility to do the right thing.” Mark eyed the object, seeing that it was a Tesla Glove, fully charged. “This is what I want, this is my special power. And when it’s done, I want you to throw it into the ocean. Just…” He fully turned to Mark, “Make me Nathan Stronglove again, not Doctor Sharp.”  
Mark could feel the confusion radiating off of Sean, and Mark simply sighed. He placed the glove on his hand and pushed the electrified points into the redhead’s skull, small bit of blood rolling down the side of his face, almost like a tear. “Goodbye Doctor Sharp.” He eyed a switch on the back of the glove, knowing it would release all electricity from the glove. He slipped his hand out and flipped it, stepping back as all the pent up Tesla energy from the item released itself into Nathan’s head. He screamed, collapsing to the ground and clawing at the dying grass in desperation, of relief of the electrical pain. He fell over, collapsing to his knees and blacked out. Mark yanked the glove from his head and threw it, simply leaving Nathan there for the moment.  
“I did that on accident once before. He killed my boss, only because he was told to, and I jammed my tesla glove so far into his skull and used to much of my rage that I gave him amnesia. The glove absorbed his memories. Guess he wanted to forget everything and start all over again.” Mark said as he stood next to Sean.  
The Irishman looked at the sky, their shoulders touching. Mark looked at him, the green-haired man’s face growing slightly red every second. “The sky is pretty for being so fake.”  
Mark looked up, “Yeah.”  
Sean spoke, whispering after a moment, “So, uhm, about what I said at the hospital, before we almost died…”  
Mark smiled, “I like you too, Sean.”  
“Well I know that but--”  
“I mean, romantically.” Mark laughed quietly, as he thought he could hear Sean’s heart and breath stop as he said that. “I never really thought about it, but that weird feeling is always there in your gut. I guess.”  
“Well this feels a little sudden, Mark.” Sean forced a laugh, and turned to Mark.  
He shrugged, “Well we’re being hunted, now’s as good a time as ever to tell you.”  
Sean nodded, glancing nervously at Nathan before something yelled at Mark from below. He looked down to see Tim, Sam, and Stephano, all neatly lined up and waiting. Mark picked the small robots up and tossed Sam to Sean, who placed the robot on his shoulder. Mark hung Stephano off of his back pocket and held Tim gently, beaming as Tim played back audio snippets of how excited it was to see him. “Well it’s nice to see you all too. I got worried about you for a moment.”  
‘BEAR!’  
“Yeah, that kinda killed two people I was acquainted with and several hundreds of other Abnormals…”  
‘Oh, hey, I’m sorry man…’  
“I’ll be fine, Tim.” He told it before hanging the small robot next to Stephano. “First order of business after we take care of Nathan and the Tesla Glove is get me a shirt and us a place to sleep.”  
Eventually, Nathan woke up, and Mark explained the whole situation he made up the first time he had amnesia, making the Abnormal Nathan Stronglove once more. After also discovering that Nathan had a massive set of four wings, and that they worked, they took off, trying to find somewhere to sleep. They managed to find Mark’s car, somehow still fully functional and the AI of Ash still intact. All three climbed in, with Nathan in shotgun, Mark and Sean in the back, and the three eye-spiders in the driver’s seat talking to Ash. Sean was sound asleep and leaning on Mark, who was quite tired himself. He stayed as alert and attentive as he long as could, though it inevitably didn’t work and he fell asleep.  
Again, upon waking up, he was in a room, and heard someone sleeping soundly next to him. It was dark, though there was a little light in the form of an electric lantern in the corner. Mark sat up, the cold air hitting his shirtless body and almost making him lay back down and sleep. He looked to his right and saw Sean, the Irishman sound asleep and curled up tightly in a ball. Mark felt a wave of what he assumed was comfort wash over his body. He looked around seeing he was in a popup tent, with Nathan curled up in the corner with a blanket and a sleeping bag. Mark then noticed that he was sitting on a blow-up mattress, one probably from his car. He slowly got up and left the tent, being as quiet as he could.  
They were outside.  
But not just underground and outside, there was a crisp, cool, November breeze, leaves and grass everywhere, and the starry sky looming over him. They were on the surface. Parked next to the tent was Sean’s funny propeller car. He approached it, opening the door and getting in, the console lighting up.  
‘Well, well, look who it is. Your life certainly has been eventful.’  
“Nice to hear you again, Ash.”  
The AI laughed, ‘And it’s nice to hear that you haven’t been turned into my namesake. I did a scan of you all earlier. You’re all mostly healed, so don’t worry.’  
“Thanks. So, are we on the surface?”  
‘Yes. Sean’s car has all features that your vehicle did and much, much more. Such features include being able to fly, having two small pairs of hidden arms, a feature to turn it into a drill, and et cetera. I transferred myself into this one on a whim, and I’m glad. Plus this vehicle is in better condition than your dumpy old car.’  
“Says the AI who’s designed to be in a car.” Mark crossed his arms.  
‘Don’t be so feisty, not my fault you gave me the voice and slight personality of your old friend.’  
Mark laughed, “Voice and personality? Try consciousness.”  
‘Oh? This is quite new to me. Elaborate.’  
“I transferred Ya… Aaron’s dying consciousness into something of an AI on accident when he died, and when I realized it, I kept it until I knew how to use it. End of story.”  
Ash was silent for a minute before it resumed talking, ‘Interesting. Anyway, we’re here because your car is crap and this one can fly and drill holes through the skydome. We came through that tunnel that Doctor Want showed you. As well, I’m sorry for the loss of your acquaintances, as well.’  
Mark simply nodded and silence hung between them. “Thank you.”  
‘No need, I already know what you want to say. Though, if I could make a recommendation, might I suggest that you go back to sleep, and in the morning you go collect weapons and scrap? That Baker guy will still be after you and even if you know how to kill him, he’s twice the size of both of you combined. I might recommend a large hammer?’  
Mark laughed quietly and nodded, “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Ash.”  
‘You’re quite welcome Mark. Oh, there’s a flannel shirt and jacket in the glovebox, just for your shirtless needs.’ The console shut off with a bright blue flash. Mark popped the glovebox open, pulling out a black flannel shirt and a thick red hoodie. He threw both on after ripping off his bandages, then got out and returned to the tent. He zipped the hoodie up and laid back down next to Sean. His eyes closed, his breathing slowed, and as he drifted off once more he felt Sean roll over, pressed up against his side.  
The following days were filled with nothing but collecting. They would return underground and collect scrap from buildings, workshop tools, clothes, fabric, and even furniture sometimes. All were thrown in the back of Sean’s car and flown to the surface. Nathan would stay above ground and collect anything he could find; food, scraps, and occasionally he found animals, though they weren’t quite the normal kind of animals from what he would say. Sean was slowly opening up to the man, though he was still sour to the kid despite his loss of memories. Nathan didn’t understand, but went along with it anyway.  
Within a few days, they had enough scrap and junk to build whatever they wanted, and Mark simply stared at everything in a confused manner.  
“Well?” Sean said, his hands in his pockets.  
“Well… We build?”  
“Ye don’t sound too sure of that, Mark.”  
He gave Sean a glare that could cut paper and muttered under his breath, “You don’t sound to sure of your FACE.”  
Sean rolled his eyes and dug through the pile, throwing things at him, things that he and Nathan both caught. “Use those.” Mark and Nathan exchange a glance before they looked at what Sean had thrown at them. A small smile danced across Mark’s lips and he nodded, getting a few more things before running off with Nathan behind him.  
He came back to Sean a mere hour later holding three things. One was a sort of shotgun that fired balls of fire. One was a fourth robotic spider, though it was merely an empty shell, and the third was a Tesla glove. Sean nodded, “Nice.”  
Mark smiled and tossed them into the tent, which had now been reinforced with sheets of metal and supports to keep it up and the weather out. “You wanna go for a flight?” Mark smiled at the both of them, Nathan nodding excitedly and Sean simply shrugged. Nathan took a running start, his four wings suddenly exploding from his back in a fury of white feathers. It always startled Mark with the noises that his wings made. Mark launched himself up, pink and red wings beating in the sky as he looked down at Sean. With a sigh, the man brought himself up and next to Mark. A calm smile crossed Mark’s face and he took off, pulling up higher and higher into the sky.  
Sean was always just a few feet near him, be it above, below, or off to the side. He kept up with Mark as they climbed higher. Sean suddenly stopped, making Mark bump into him and nearly fall out of the sky. He corkscrewed away for a moment before quickly coming back to Mark and facing him. He scratched the back of his neck and spoke, “I… I feel like you brought me here with some reason in mind. Other than to re-ignite my fear of heights.”  
“Not really, I just wanted to spend time with you before one of us probably dies.”  
Sean let out a nervous laugh, hand still on the back of his neck, “Well, Mark. I have a sort of question to ask.”  
“Hm?”  
His face grew to an even greater shade of red, “Well, you said you had a sort of crush on me, right? I was wondering if you’d be willing to… Date me, I guess.”  
This time it was Mark’s face that turned red, and he spoke softly, “I’d love to.”  
A hug was what he got in response, a genuine, caring hug. Mark returned Sean’s embrace, their wings beating in sync as to not pull each other out of the sky. It was pleasant to say the least. Sean’s head resting on Mark’s shoulder, Mark’s lips barely brushing Sean’s forehead. It was warm, caring, comforting.  
They returned after a while, the sky getting dark and the tent dimly lit from the lantern. Nathan was fast asleep, his wings laying out on his back as he slept on his stomach. Sean stared at him for a brief few moment before he whispered to Mark, “He must’ve really cared for someone.”  
Mark sat down on the blow up mattress, “What do you mean?”  
“I’ve only ever seen one time when a Harpy became Truly something. He’s a Truly Divine Harpy, meaning he’s got 4 wings and they’re all fluffy, feathery ones. You’d have Truly Divine wings, but you’re just a sad, normal Perfect harpy.” He muttered, taking a seat next to Mark. Mark made a face at the remark of his wing type.  
“Well what would you have?” Mark turned to him.  
“Truly Impure. Even if my second set was the pure demon wings or the feathery wings, I’d still be Impure because I’m not perfect.” He muttered, kicking at the ground. “And don’t say ‘Oh, but SEAAAAAN, you’re perfect to MEEEE.’ Because then you’re full of shit.”  
Mark tried his hardest not to laugh, but instead asked, “What would cause one to have four wings?”  
“You’re asking a lot of questions there, Mark. WELL. It’s when the type of person you are is so strong that your body releases the pent up energy in the form of an ability reflecting you. It’s usually a duplicate of what you can already do, but it can be more. I’ve seen it once, when an Abnormal was trying to protect his human girlfriend from a murderer. It’s extremely painful, but it’s also what triggered me wanting to learn about Abnormals.” He laid down, curling up as tightly as he could, Mark doing the same. With a smile, he heard Sean move closer, and the two fell asleep.  
He woke up in the middle of the night, to silence, and to cold. He opened his eyes, finding Sean to be nowhere in sight and Nathan was gone as well. He screamed for them, running from the tent to find Nathan unconscious a few feet away. He carefully dragged the boy back to the tent and threw him on the bed before running in the direction that the redhead was. In the distance he saw a large figure carrying a smaller, flailing one. How ever Baker had found them baffled him, but he ran after them, and the closer he got the better he could hear them.  
“...Hell is what you’re gonna get, Baker!”  
“Oh, dear, McLoughlin, haven’t you learned? I can stop all of you.”  
“You’re being stereotypical!”  
“I’m very aware, don’t worry.”  
Mark launched up, flying ahead of them and dropped straight down in front of them, like an anime character would do. “Let him GO!”  
“Hello Fischbach. Nice to see you again. Lovely weather out tonight, don’t you think?”  
“Just tell me why!” Mark pleaded, his face growing hot.  
Baker was silent for a minute then yelled all of a sudden, “Because you had a friend that remembered you could never die. Because you had him and no one remembered that I was an Abnormal like you two were.” The voice shook, and something sounded like it cracked in the man. But it was a mechanical crack, and after the man threw Sean at Mark, the man fell to his knees. The voice that came out of the body next scared the living hell out of them.  
“Javla Helveta why didn’t anyone remember that I was an Abnormal too!?” He screamed, covering his face with his big hands.  
Mark stood Sean up, both exchanging a glance and walked towards the large man. Steam started rolling off of Baker’s body, until the back split in half, showing a small person inside the massive body. Sean cleared the air, and in the darkness and little smoke left, something stood up from Baker’s body. A small man, as tall as Mark and Sean, with some weird glowing wings emerged from it, stepping out as the body fell apart into a metallic heap.  
“What do you two want from me!?” He rushed at them, lunging for Mark, but ended up grabbing Sean’s throat, as he stepped in front of Mark at the last moment, sending all three into the ground. With a mighty swing, the third man pounded his fist into Sean’s throat, all three stopping. Sean made a choking noise, trying to get up but the third man was too quick. With a leap he grabbed Sean from the back and dragged him back down. Mark jumped up as a loud crack resonated through the air. He froze in place, the third man standing up as blood dripped from his knuckles, his body shaking. “There, now we have some privacy.”  
“D… Did you…”  
“He’s pretty much dead, Mark.” The man walked towards him, his hair covering his face. He was a blonde man, as tall as Mark was, his clothes that of someone who was a Steampunk mechanic. In the dim light, he could make out the man only when he was standing right in front of him.  
“...Silas?”  
He looked up, his blonde hair falling out of his face to reveal a familiar one, though it wasn’t that of Silas Kjellberg. Scruffy, dark hair decorated his chin, and his face was covered in soot, but the man’s features signified that he wasn’t his boss. “No, not Silas. Not Baker. Just your old friend that nobody remembered was Abnormal. Emitting hallucinogens to make you see what I wanted you to see. Small, petty wings like a dragonfly would have. Just me.”  
Mark’s body swelled with anger, “Why the hell would you kill Sean!? He was just trying to sur--”  
“SHUT UP! All I had died with me thousands of years ago! All you had died except one! You lucky bastard had a friend that would never leave you, but all the same for me and neither of you remembered me!” The blonde man swung at Mark, the pink-haired man taking a step back and barely having his nose clipped by the fist.  
“You never told either of us!” He tried to shove the man back, only to have his arms grabbed and twisted backwards.  
He pinned Mark to the ground, “Bullshit, yes I did! But nobody listened! Nobody came when I cried out for help! I just wanted someone to remember me!”  
Mark beat his wings, pulling himself up and hitting the blonde in the face with a wing and knocking him over. “Well you didn’t have to KILL SEAN!”  
“It’s the only damn way you would listen!”  
“YOU COULD HAVE JUST ASKED, FELIX!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter. Be prepared for a HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR. Everything will be alright.


	11. Mark and Sean Fischbach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean had a tight hold on Mark’s hand, the two silent as they walked now, the sun slowly fading into the twilight. They climbed a steep hill, staring at the sky as the stars started to show; it was a scene straight out of a dumb romantic comedy movie. Sean tugged on Mark’s arm.  
> His voice cracked and fell silent as he spoke, “Mark? Is it too early to say that I love you?”  
> “No, I don’t think so. I’m not so sure, since I haven’t had a relationship in thousands of years and can’t quite remember.”  
> Sean laughed, coughing after a moment and earning a worried look from Mark. “I’m fine, ye silly bastard. Just my throat.” He sat down and pulled Mark with him.  
> Mark started to speak, “Do you remember ever thinking--”  
> “I’m doin’ it now.”  
> Mark shoved him, the Irishman’s scratchy laughter echoing through the valley. “I mean when you were younger and childish.”  
> “Well obviously.”  
> “This is why we can’t have nice things, Sean. Because you keep running your damn mouth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER AND EVERYONE IS HAPPY AT THE END.  
> MERRY CHRISTMAS, I'M LATE TO EVERYTHING.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS: Brutal death/murder, important characters not dying, resolution, happy gay men.

Felix screamed.  
He lunged at Mark, grabbing his ankles and dragging him to the ground, “For thousands of years I pretended not to care! I tried not to ask! But I never found someone who would talk to me!” Mark grabbed him by his long hair and threw him off, his small wings fluttering angrily on his back, “But no one wants to talk to an Intertwined Harpy! A bug!” He punched Mark in the stomach, he falling to the ground and Felix jumped on him, straddling his chest and punched him in the jaw, over and over and over. “So I changed who I was! I became a bad person, I killed. I became a good person, I helped those who needed help! And most of them were ungrateful! I became controlling, I built an empire, I had people who followed me, and I changed something, after thousands of years! I was broken, and then I had a meaning! And as soon as you came back into my view, Mark, everything broke again!”  
He stopped, his head hanging over Mark and his eyes closed. Mark refused to move, though he figured his nose might be broken. Maybe the man had cracked after so many years of being alone, Mark sure thought he would if what Felix had said in his little ramble was true. Felix opened his eyes, the blue staring into Mark’s brown. “Mark.” He sat back, pinning Mark’s ribs into the ground. “I’ve got the ability to make people see what I want them to see, as long as they’re near me. It’s a hallucinogen. But, it meant that I could be other people. I have these dumb fucking bug wings sure, but to some I could be someone special again.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “And the look on your face when ‘I’ was ‘shot’ by Nathan as Silas was beautiful. It never actually hit me, sure, but your emotion… It was all I wanted to see again. And now the look you have now of fear and anger is something I missed.  
“Look, I’ll leave now. I’ll leave you alone. It may be really sudden, that I just show my true face and then leave, but I have nothing left. And maybe Jack isn’t dead. You still have a chance.” He stood up, only for Mark to fly up and pull him into the air.  
“Do you think this is just something you can walk away from!? I get it, after thousands of fucking years, someone’s gonna get tired of being themselves! But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you just KILLED the only friend we might’ve had! YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED.” He grabbed Felix’s jaw and turned his face to look in his eyes, “But no. I feel like you’ve almost fully become Baker, Felix. I liked you as you were a long time ago, but you changed. You’re three different people and I don’t know who to believe is the real you now. You were never like this. Just… Stop.”  
Mark let him go, the man plummeting a few hundred feet before his small wings caught him. Keeping calm didn’t really sit with Mark, and he tucked his wings in, barling straight down at him, ready to do anything to satiate that feeling of revenge in his stomach.  
Some sort of smoke seemed to furl around Felix, enwrapping him to make him seem as if he was a monster made of smoke. He appeared to be much, much larger than he actually was, as well as a lot more intimidating. Mark took a sharp turn sped off as fast as he could towards the tent, not bothering to look behind him. Felix yelled his name through the sky as he ducked in, Nathan cowering in the corner with his head in his knees. Mark grabbed the small fire gun he made earlier and hurried back out, the illusion of a monster standing before him.  
He fired once into the chest of the beast, and it faded away quickly, Felix cautiously hovering in the air and staring down at Mark. “Mark, just leave me alone!”  
“No! You brought this!”  
“Vengeance on me for everyone isn’t gonna help that they’re dead!”  
Mark leapt up, the fire gun clattering to the ground and he flew eye to eye with the blonde. “Felix. You killed hundreds of Abnormals, and if I remember right you spearheaded the Industrialists side of the 3000’s war, meaning thousands of innocents died at your hands. There is no one to give you judgement, so I’ll do it.”  
“Since when did you, Mark Fischbach, decide to become my judge!? What gives you the right!?”  
“You killed Sean! Someone I love dearly! You got two people I would love to have gotten close to killed, and not to mention you’re a threat to my life! You’re not the man that I knew before,” Mark shrieked.  
Felix stared him down, his face expressionless, “But what if Jack isn’t dead?”  
“That’s still attempted murder of my bo--” The last word caught in his throat. Did he have the right to call Sean that? He stayed with his mouth open for a moment, his and Felix’s wings beating silently. He stared down at the ground, seeing a flurry of white under him.  
“Attempted murder of your what, Mark?” Felix hissed, “Your boyfriend?”  
He looked at Felix, “Yes, actually.”  
He turned, slapping Felix out of the air and sending him plummeting towards the ground. He saw the flurry of white soar up and grab Felix and throw him back up. Black enraptured him as he got back to Mark’s level, and as he was about to swing, his heart stopped. Felix pulled a dirty trick right out of FullMetal Alchemist.  
He disguised himself as Sean.  
They stared at each other, vibrant blue staring into delicious brown. He looked back and forth between the eyes of who he thought was Sean, and his mind clicked in almost a little too late. Sean had a metal ring around his right eye and large burn on that same side of his face. From Felix. This was old Sean, when he was Jack, when he didn’t romantically like him.  
From when he would wail on him and neither would care.  
He pulled back and once more lunged for him, grabbing him by the throat. He tucked his wings in and closed his eyes tight.  
They started to fall, their speed going faster and faster until Felix and Mark slammed into the ground, black smoke from the blonde going everywhere. Something splattered onto his face, and only after did he notice that, as if by divine intervention, he had slammed Felix’s throat into a rock, ripping it apart and killing the titan of a man. He looked away, trying not to throw up at the sight of it and slowly stood. He looked at Nathan, who was standing nervously near them, his body shaking. “Is… Is it over? ...It looked like a fight straight out of a television show…”  
“It’s over, Nathan. Let’s go get Sean.”  
The redhead solemnly nodded and they walked towards where Sean’s body lay. To Mark it felt like forever, his heart sinking slowly into his shoes, making his motivation to live run dry and his legs grow heavy. They approached him, his body lying limp on a pile of twigs, fallen from a nearby tree. they crunched like bones under their feet, and Mark kneeled next to the body of Sean McLoughlin. His face was buried in the ground, and his head, neck and shoulders were covered with bruises. Mark placed his hand on his shoulder.  
He moved.  
The pink haired man shrieked, falling backwards and hearing the twigs snap under his weight. He moved his eyes to Sean’s body, his back faintly rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing. Nathan and Mark locked eyes, Nathan’s a look of confusion and Mark’s a look of hope. He leaned forward, carefully rolling Sean onto his back, and sighed. The front of Sean’s neck was horrible, and it looked like his throat had collapsed in on itself from the sheer power of Felix’s one punch. He looked almost peaceful.  
With one fell swoop, he picked up Sean as one would pick up a child and carried him away, the Irishman’s head resting on his shoulder. It was silent. Inside the tent, Mark laid Sean down on the mattress and had Ash instruct him on how to fix the man’s slightly broken body. With what they had it was quite difficult, but after several long, painful hours, a brace had been made to keep his head up and Mark, with a lot of help from Nathan, fixed Sean’s throat. The brace was to keep his neck straight, as Mark figured when Felix punched him in the back of the neck, the sound was more from the twigs they landed on than snapping his neck.  
He sat in the corner next to Nathan, who was playing with Stephano. Mark leaned his head back against the reinforced walls, and thought. Nathan looked at him, “Something… Wrong?”  
“I feel kind of guilty.”  
Stephano blinked it’s light at Nathan a few times, who after a moment asked, “Why?”  
“Because I blatantly killed someone. Someone I used to know. Out of anger and rage, not justifiable by me. I mean, he did kill hundreds and get thousands killed, but killing him over one man…” He ran his fingers through his fading pink hair, “It just feels wrong, what I did. It wasn’t my call.”  
Nathan nodded, setting Stephano down and letting the small robot bump around with the other two. “Truthfully, n-now it doesn’t matter what you did. All that’s important is that you’re honest with yourself. You were acting in self-defence. You were thrown into that situation against your will… So, I guess… W-wasn’t it your responsibility to do the right thing? Well, whatever your viewpoint. I won’t judge you for it… “  
A smile tugged at the corners of Mark’s mouth. It was very close to what he had told Nathan before he erased his memories. He figured that the words stuck, even with his past gone. “Thanks, Nathan. I still feel bad about it, but your words are nice.”  
“Good English, Mark.”  
“Thanks, I know.”  
Tim clamoured over to Mark, climbing up his shirt to sit on his shoulder. ‘Yes!’ The high pitched voice sounded triumphant, happy.  
“You were always a good little robot, Tim.”  
‘Hey Mark!’ A high pitched snippet of Sean talking. A different snippet played, from a movie more than likely, ‘I love you!’  
“It’s a good thing I gave you all the ability to learn. Love you too, Tim.” He tapped the eye-spider lightly, it playing excited laughing sound clips as a final gesture of kindness. Mark’s eyes slipped shut, and the soft noises of the outside world lulled him into a silent, peaceful slumber.  
Two days later, Sean woke up.  
He was scared he was dead at first, thinking everything was just a figment of his dead imagination, but it took very little convincing to tell the man that he was actually alive. He was so happy he started to cry, giving Mark a tight hug and Nathan a soft, thankful one. He spent the entire day with Mark, taking a long walk to nowhere, listening to him ramble on about if killing Felix was a good thing or not, about what they should do next, about the injury that Sean had. He listened patiently, as his voice was too rough and messed up to talk much.  
Sean had a tight hold on Mark’s hand, the two silent as they walked now, the sun slowly fading into the twilight. They climbed a steep hill, staring at the sky as the stars started to show; it was a scene straight out of a dumb romantic comedy movie. Sean tugged on Mark’s arm.  
His voice cracked and fell silent as he spoke, “Mark? Is it too early to say that I love you?”  
“No, I don’t think so. I’m not so sure, since I haven’t had a relationship in thousands of years and can’t quite remember.”  
Sean laughed, coughing after a moment and earning a worried look from Mark. “I’m fine, ye silly bastard. Just my throat.” He sat down and pulled Mark with him.  
Mark started to speak, “Do you remember ever thinking--”  
“I’m doin’ it now.”  
Mark shoved him, the Irishman’s scratchy laughter echoing through the valley. “I mean when you were younger and childish.”  
“Well obviously.”  
“This is why we can’t have nice things, Sean. Because you keep running your damn mouth.” He laid down, wings spread out under him, Sean watching him carefully. “Remember thinking when you were younger how awesome it would be to be able to fly, or to live forever, or to have all these cool other abilities?”  
Sean laid on his side next to him, his head on Mark’s shoulder. “I remember clear as day.”  
Mark sighed, putting his arm around Sean’s back, under his wings. “That childlike wonder was just the greatest wasn’t it?” A small hum came from Sean. “I sometimes wish that everything was normal again.”  
“Well, I have you, and that’s about as normal as this is gonna get. I’m not complaining, it’s just how it is.”  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Sean nodded, curling into Mark’s side and staring up at the stars with him. “I always wanted to go to space.”  
“You still do.”  
Mark laughed, feeling his chest resonating against Sean’s body. “You tell no lies.”  
Sean rolled his eyes, “Humans evolved from skeletons.”  
A dirty look was shared between them, Sean trying not to burst from not laughing and Mark looking very upset with everything. His eyes returned to the sky once more. “I love you too, Sean.”  
Their arms wrapped tightly around each other, a warm, loving embrace. The moon rose and clouds covered parts of the sky. The cool breeze lulled Sean to sleep, and Mark simply stared absentmindedly at the stars. His hands rubbed Sean’s back, the man’s body warm and soft. He saw a dim light, just under his line of view, and upon slightly sitting up he saw something that nearly took his breath away.  
A house. A singular, massive house, tucked away in the valley with the windows broken and the outside falling apart. It was from the late 2900’s, early 3000’s. There was a large lamppost next to the porch of the house, its white light shining brightly in the complete darkness. It stood proudly before a large, green forest. A singular giant Oak tree, probably thousands of years old, towered out in front of the house. He shook Sean gently, the man grunting as he sat up. Mark pointed behind him, and after seeing the house they both got up and flew back, back to Nathan and the robot homed at their tent. Upon telling the man they found something incredible, everyone rushed back to the house, excited and ready to sleep in a real house.  
It was a normal home, simple and miraculously inside was in one piece. Kitchen, bathrooms, study, living room, and an entertainment room were all downstairs, and upstairs floors were bedrooms and several other rooms they were too tired to investigate.  
Sean dragged Mark upstairs, the man gazing up at Sean tiredly. He dragged them to the biggest bedroom he could find and pulled them to the bed. If it was made or messy, Mark couldn’t remember. He only remembered the blanket being thrown over him and the warmth of Sean pressed into his side as they both slept, their first good night of sleep in a long while, and certainly not the last…  
… It had been five years.  
In five years, Mark, Sean, and Nathan had buried all of the poor Abnormals killed in the rage of Felix, with the help of a few other kind Abnormals. They didn’t keep Morgan, Nate, and Felix underground, however, as they were laid to rest under the large oak tree in the front yard. Some Abnormals stayed in the house that Mark and Sean had found, taking care not to be too much of a nuisance to anyone around them, though everyone was still quite friendly, somehow. And despite everything that could have happened, they stayed together. They even would tell people they were practically married.  
Mark and Sean sat on the side of the hill where they first found the house, Sean curled comfortably in Mark’s side. Mark’s hair was no longer pink, but instead a nice shade of blue. Sean kept his green hair, though it was fading out yet again.  
Mark ran his fingers down the side of Sean’s face, his fingertips lightly gracing the metal ring around his eye, the large burn mark he had grown to appreciate, and the small stubble that irritated his fingertips. Sean pressed his face into Mark’s hand, wanting to be closer to him. Mark pulled the Irishman into his lap, his face pressed into the side of Sean’s. Sean’s eyes turned to his and he smiled.  
“Mark?”  
“Hm?”  
Sean turned completely towards him, “I love you.”  
Mark wrapped his arms around Sean’s neck and pulled him closer. ‘Well, I love you too.”  
They laughed quietly, the blue-haired man cupping Sean’s face and pulled him closer, the two locking lips and their eyes closing tightly. Sean pushed against Mark, his hands reaching up to tangle themselves into the blue hair. Mark’s hands slipped under Sean’s shirt, his rough hands cold against the Irishman’s soft, warm skin. He could feel Sean’s pulse beating through his light skin, his mouth locked in a calm battle of dominance with the other man’s. Mark’s wings fluttered under his shirt as Sean pulled back, his forehead resting against the Irishman’s.  
“Should we go inside?” Sean whispered, his voice airy.  
“I think I’m gonna sit here and make you suffer. Drag me inside.”  
He earned a glare in response, Sean standing and yanking Mark off of his feet. He laughed, Sean gripping his hand and trying to pull him to the house. “Mark, ye silly bitch come on!”  
Mark turned and dragged Sean back up to the side of the hill, standing on top and turning him towards the sunset. “Look at how lovely it is.”  
Sean looked at him, his eyes almost pleading, “Mark, please, it’s not gonna go away. It’s the same every day.”  
Mark shook his head, “Not the view I have.”  
It wasn’t the sunset that was lovely to him. It was where Sean was standing: the sun glinting across his face, glowing against his pale skin and making the green in his hair stand out vibrantly. The light brought out the blue of his eyes, and the shadows of his face. Sean looked down, a wide, embarrassed smile on his face. He turned and with a light grip on Sean’s hand, pulled him back to the house, smiling at the blush he could still make creep across his face after so few years.  
Maybe he and Sean will die in the near future, or maybe, somehow, science made them live forever. Maybe something bad will happen to them, but they didn’t know. But it’s late. All the sounds of the other Abnormals have died down, all of the Earth had settled for the night, all the noises of the natural world had died out hours ago. And for some reason, he still couldn't help but smile.

~ViraLayton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you all think? Leave me a comment!
> 
> And hey, if you have any recommendations of what I should write in the future, just let me know! You can tell me here, or on my Tumblr if you like, which is FireElegy.  
> I love doing AUs since I hate writing anything that's realistic, so there's that.  
> I'll write anything for Septiplier, Prof. Layton, Pokemon, and Undertale, so just feel free.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Beginnings and Flight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5304992) by [athlanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athlanna/pseuds/athlanna)




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